Eagle Watch: Southstream
by Dhark
Summary: The Sequel to my previous novel, Ghost. Action is in and around Loamhedge. (Best viewed in Times New Roman)
1. Part One: Dawn

Eagle Watch  
Southstream  
  
By Matthew Vazquez  
  
It has been half a season since our victory over Starbane, and we now seek the safe haven known to all as Loamhedge. Our four companions from the former Foxtribe still travel with us, and all, with the exception of Celleste, have deemed them trustworthy. Earlier today, I overheard Solace telling Elflein about Salamandastron's food. Elflein silenced her with a bowl of hotroot soup, and Solace has not spoken since all day; though I must admit it is hard to talk with your head under the water.  
Thinking of Salamandastron reminds me of my late friend, Acer. He was a regrettable loss to the group, and a nagging voice in the back of my mind refuses to let the murder sleep. I am now recalling that Montel had encountered two assassins that night and that only one was slain: Skullrag. The second escaped, and I am beginning to wonder if he died in our attack on Starbane's horde.  
Trent and Bloodwort, two members from Foxtribe, have proven useful scouts, though they have been admittedly lazy as of late. I am probably going to send them on a scouting mission again. They rarely return with much to report. I hope we catch sight of Loamhedge soon. Celleste and I are growing impatient and excited as we draw nearer the place.  
I must stop writing, a higher matter summons, and I do not want to keep her waiting. I will have Trent and Bloodwort scout to the east and report back by nightfall. Snitch and Elflein are preparing the lunch, and Montel and Corbin are giving Dengar a hard time. My personal opinion is that all four of the foxes need a sense of humour. Celleste is calling again, I must be going.   
  
  
Ghost,  
Eagle Watch  
  
  
  
~Eagle Watch~  
SOUTHSTREAM  
By Matthew Vazquez  
  
PART ONE  
Dawn  
  
Chapter I  
  
Ghost closed the worn journal and slipped it back in the pocket of his robe. Overhead, the warm sun was shining bright in a cloudless sky, and the spring weather had a calming effect on the members of Eagle Watch. The distant sound of running water to the south only added to the overall cheery, relaxed mood that held a strong grip on the group.  
Ghost stretched and scratched a faint itch under the black fur surrounding his dark amber eyes. Standing, and tapping her foot-paw impatiently on the ground, was Celleste. As he drew nearer, a smile formed on her face and she walked over to him.  
"Took you long enough."  
The two ferrets embraced and started walking away from the main camp; Ghost taking her paw in his.  
"I was writing in my log."  
Celleste glanced sidelong at him and chuckled. "That's all you ever do, isn't it full yet?"  
"Almost. Four pages left until I run out of room."  
"Save those four, please, for Loamhedge."  
He grinned and pulled the book from his pocket. "Here, hold on to it until then. In my absentmindedness I would write and not realise it."  
She took the book and studied its cover. "The Badger Lord gave you this?"  
"Yes, he did."  
She chuckled. "I wouldn't've, but I guess that just tells you how much he knew about you."  
"If you're going to be that way, then give it back."  
Ghost reached out to take the book, but Celleste darted away from him, taunting him playfully by dangling it just out of his reach.  
"If you can catch me, it's yours." She drew it back as he lunged for it and hit him lightly on the head. "You're too slow."  
The two ran and darted among the scattered trees, Celleste taunting him and laughing every time he missed. Ghost feigned a sudden disinterest in the game and caught her off guards. As she took a relaxed step closer to him, he lunged and caught her in a tight bear hug.  
"I caught you."  
She tucked the journal into her belt. "I changed my mind. I'm keeping it."  
Ghost frowned and scratched her under the chin. "You little thief. I just hope our children don't end up following in your likeness."  
Celleste pushed him away and crossed her arms. "Now who's not being nice?"  
The two started laughing and were soon walking paw in paw again.  
"Ghost, what are we going to do about Trent and the others?"  
Ghost shook his head. "You still don't trust them?"  
"Never have. There is something about the way they act."  
"They act fine."  
She nodded her head. "Right, they're acting too normal. They came from a cold-blooded horde. I would expect more...coldness from them. Have you seen how Trent and Bloodwort are always glaring at me?"  
"They don't glare at you."  
"When you're not around." She sighed. "He threatened me once, and you too. Remember at the base of the cliff?"  
Ghost shook his head. The argument was an old one, and she never failed to bring it up. "He threatened you when he was still a part of Starbane's horde."  
"He wasn't part of the horde when he threatened you."  
"No, he wasn't, but he still had his Foxtribe back then as well. He has yet to do anything against us, and until he does I will trust him."  
They both fell silent; knowing it was useless to argue the issue any further. Ghost tried to change the topic to something they both looked forward too.  
"According to the map they gave us at Salamandastron, we are almost to Loamhedge."  
Celleste grinned and leaned her head on his shoulder. "How much longer, do you think?"  
"Oh, I don't know." He tried to guess in his head. "Another few days, I'd guess."  
"Too long."  
He shook his head. "Not for forever. It could be longer, and if it were, I would admit it to be too long. Three days is not too long, not to me."  
"Well, you're just strange."  
They both turned back around as someone tumbled noisily through the brush. Solace, the hare that had come from Salamandastron after hearing of her brother's death, came bounding up to them.  
"Hullo there, y'little kiddies. I ain't interruptin' nothin', am I?"  
"Nothing, Solace. We were just discussing Loamhedge." Ghost threw his arm around Celleste's shoulders. "Just our usual topic of conversation."  
Solace chuckled and winked. "Not far off now, soon we'll be feastin' at th' tables an' laughin' along wi' th' best o' them. Now wots say we quit wanderin' off an' head back for some jolly good lunch, wot!"  
"Alright, lunch it is. Celleste, go on ahead. Solace, go with her and send Bloodwort and Trent to me, please."  
"Right away, sah!" Solace saluted. "Anythin' else I can do t' be o' service?"  
Ghost nodded. "Yes."  
"Wot's that, sah?"  
Ghost shrugged. "I don't know, I just felt like saying yes."  
Solace shoved him and hopped back to the camp, laughing. "You're a funny one, Ghost. Though I can't see wot't was m' brother saw in ya!"  
Ghost shook his head. "Hares, just can't bring them down for long. Quite extraordinary, really. Underneath that fun, joking exterior, they are true warriors."  
Celleste started walking back to the camp. "Be careful with Trent and Bloodwort. I don't trust them. Underneath that kind veil, every fox is a sneak and in the game for themselves. Watch your back."  
"I will. That's a promise."  
Ghost smiled reassuringly as the two foxes started walking towards him. Celleste made an effort to pass nowhere near them, and was soon back in the camp. Trent bowed slightly as Ghost walked forward to intercept them.  
"Ghost, what can we do for you today?"  
"Trent, according to what they gave us back at Salamandastron, we can't be more than three days away from Loamhedge. Could you do me a favour, scout ahead and look for any landmarks we could use as reference. You have a copy of the map, don't you?"  
Trent gave the ferret a curt nod. "It is in my pack, back at camp, sir. Would you like me to fetch it?"  
"No, that won't be necessary. Don't be too long, back by nightfall."  
Trent bowed again. "We'll let you know if we find anything useful, sir."  
Ghost chuckled at the fox's formality. "You are too kind, Trent. Come on back to camp and fix up your packs. Today's going to be hot, so don't forget water."  
"Of course, sir." Trent smiled.  
The three strode back to the camp.  
  
Chapter II  
  
The midday sun did not just fall on the camp of Eagle Watch alone. One day from their ultimate goal, the Bloodslayers were in the middle of getting ready to march. Under the watchful eye of their leader, Scarstripe, the five score vermin were moving with a mechanical efficiency. Scarstripe was standing in the centre of the camp; his watchful eye quick to catch any misstep or err performed by those under his command. A seasoned veteran on the battlefield, Scarstripe knew what he wanted from his horde. Military discipline was practised at such a degree; rumours had spread that the hares from Salamandastron would have been put to shame.  
Military status alone was not what bought him the respect from his troops. He demanded a large amount of respect from his own history. The horde had not been his from its birth. He had conspired long and hard with Mantis, his assassin, and Myriad, his main advisor, before finally developing a plan to make the incredible power his to wield. The price had been painful, but in the end, the cost brought unwavering loyalty and respect from his troops. His competitor for power had hired another assassin, and was successful in capturing him for a short while; long enough to leave a long gash running down his back. The assassin and its leader had paid with their life. The fur that had grown back over the scar was a grey-white, and the stripe was the source of respect and his name: Scarstripe.  
The weasel blinked as he watched a black rat floating around the camp. He turned to a ferretmaid at his side.  
"Myriad, who is that?"  
Myriad followed the weasel's gaze and watched the rat for a moment. "Darkbane, sir. New recruit, trainin' under Mantis. Th' li'le snip came in about 'alf a season ago."  
"Darkbane, eh." Scarstripe scratched his chin. "I don't believe anyone ever told me we had a new assassin."  
"That'd be Mantis' job. I jus' know he came durin' that mess wi'th' otter's, an' things were confusin' then."  
"Aye, they were. Thank you, Myriad." He patted her on the shoulder. "Darkbane, come here."  
The black rat hurried over and saluted. "Yes, sir?"  
"I don't believe I ever welcomed you to the Bloodslayers. You are aware of the way I run my horde, are you not?"  
"Yes, sir. Mantis filled me in."  
Scarstripe held up a paw. "Yes, sir and no, sir will do. You do not say more unless asked. Why, if you are aware of how I run the camp, are you wandering about with nothing to do?"  
Darkbane hesitated. "I wasn't sure of what to do, sir."  
"Mantis is your teacher?"  
"Yes, sir."  
"Then talk to Mantis," Scarstripe snapped at the rat. "I don't want to waste my time telling little whelps like yourself what to do. Everybeast has a task and I expect it to be done on time. Is that understood?"  
"Yes, sir."  
"Then get moving. Find Mantis and tell him to put you to work."  
The rat scurried off, watched by Myriad and Scarstripe. The weasel shook his head and sighed. "Half a season?"  
"Aye, 'alf a season."  
"I shouldn't take them so young and inexperienced." He glanced around and started walking towards his tent. As a rule, his tent was always the last thing packed before a march. "So, how far are we from Loamhedge?"  
"Th' scouts claim a day's march."  
Scarstripe held the tent flap open for her and followed her in. "What about the war council?"  
"Slow, sir. They say that they're gonna be ready fer an immediate attack, but I've seen a snail o'ertake a bird faster than they're going."  
"Remind them, Myriad, that stealth is of the utmost importance. Have the scouts found anything else?"  
"Nothin' that's too important. Some camps not far from our spot, a band o' foxes."  
"Are they any threat?"  
Myriad shook her head. "From what I've gathered, they're movin' at a slow pace. They're scouts haven't caught wind o' us, an' if they 'ave, they ain't doin' nothin' about it."  
"Good. I don't want any surprises against us when we finally attack." Scarstripe grinned and continued watching the horde work. "It is impressive to see what they are capable of."  
"Aye, sir." Myriad knew what was coming. It had become a standard routine. "They're in capable hands."  
"Of course. I run everything on a tight watch. The march does not even require the use of drums. My Bloodslayers are the perfect war machine. We are not too small, and not too big. Loamhedge won't be able to stand against us."  
"Aye, sir. They'll fall, an' we'll use th' buildin' fer a fortress. It'll become th' new power in th' lands."  
"My trusted advisor, you never fail to bolster my ego with your words." He grinned at her. "It is because of that, I let you live to advise me."  
She nodded and suppressed a grin of her own. "Aye sir, thankee, sir."  
Scarstripe acted as though he had not noticed her final words and shouted at the black rat, Darkbane. "Darkbane, haven't you found something to do yet? Come here, I'll give you a job."  
A lanky ermine slowly made his way to the two of them, stopping a few steps away from his commander. "Sir, we've got a little problem."  
Scarstripe stared the ermine down. "What sort of problem would that be?"  
The ermine chuckled nervously, but was driven to speak by a cold growl by Scarstripe. "Well, one of them's done gone and escaped."  
  
Chapter III  
  
Trent stopped to get his bearings straight and gave a nod of satisfaction. He and Bloodwort had been trekking for near an hour, never stopping any longer than was needed to check their course and make what few corrections there were. Trent listened to the silence around them and grinned.  
"Give them a call, Bloodwort."  
Bloodwort pulled a leaf from a tree and split it down the middle. He pressed it between his paws and blew out two, shrill whistles. Almost immediately, a similar response echoed back.  
"Good, he'll be here in a few minutes." Trent opened his canteen of water and took a long drink. "Ain't nothing to do now but wait."  
The two sat in the shade of a tall elm, neither saying a word, until a cruel looking fox stepped out of the brush. The fox glanced at Bloodwort, then Trent, his paw never leaving the basket hilt of his rapier. He gave a gruff nod and approached them. Trent rose to meet him.  
"What news from the watch, sir?"  
Trent clasped his paw on the fox's shoulder and grinned. "We are drawing nearer every day. How's the clan?"  
"We wait for our leader's return and hope it is soon." The fox gave a nod to Bloodwort. "How goes, brother?"  
"All goes well, Blythe. What is new with the clan?"  
"Nothing. Everything remains the same. Blades are sharper, and arrows are awaiting their targets, but that is all."  
"Patience is the key, Blythe." Trent's eyes glinted. "Soon, our dead comrades will be avenged, and Foxtribe will smite its enemies. We never fail."  
Blythe grinned. "Of course not, sir. How many days until the attack?"  
"Two. By this time in two days, Eagle Watch will be no more."  
"How will it be done?"  
"Bloodwort and I will take care of the ferrets. They are our primary targets. While they are distracted, and ultimately being killed, the main attack will ambush the others. They won't know what hit them. We can then join with that horde south of here and decide where to go next."  
Blythe nodded. "Why do you want the ferrets alone?"  
Trent's expression turned serious, with a mocking tone showing in his eyes. "The two will be fun to torture and kill slowly. Ghost will watch Celleste die, and he will follow soon after, but not before hearing about the demise of Eagle Watch. They killed members of our clan; therefor they deserve to die. I just want to have fun with the two ferrets before I send them to the Dark Forest."  
Blythe nodded slowly. Trent's explanation still made no sense to him. "Of course, why not?" He looked at Trent, then to Bloodwort, then back at Trent again. "Is that all?"  
"Yes, brother. Inform the rest of Foxtribe about our plans and see to it that they are ready. Surprise will be of the utmost importance in this task; we will need as much as we can get."  
Blythe chuckled. "Have no worries. Foxtribe is capable of anything. Are any of the members of Eagle Watch suspicious?"  
Trent laughed. "Ghost trusts us, and his trust has passed on to the rest of them. The only one that keeps distance from us is Celleste. She'll be more surprised than the rest of them, though, when she finally realises she was right about us."  
Blythe bowed. "I must be returning, it is a long trek back to camp, and I would like to return before nightfall."  
"Aye, we've got to be back by that time too. Until we meet again, Blythe, best of luck to you. Tell Foxtribe I'll prepare the biggest feast they've ever clapped eyes on once we get this done."  
Bloodwort walked up to his brother and clasped his paw. "Take care. We'll be back with the clan before long."  
"Aye, I'll be waiting, brother." Blythe saluted and walked back into the brush.  
Trent chuckled and began walking back towards the camp. "Come on, Bloodwort, we've got a long march ahead of us. Where are we, according to the map?"  
"Well, two and a half days from Loamhedge."  
"Anything else to report?"  
"Nothing of importance was found, sir."  
Trent chuckled. "You sound so convincing."  
Bloodwort grinned. "I'm a fox, sly is my line of work."  
The two laughed as they made their way back to camp.  
  
Chapter IV  
  
The day was as perfect as one could ever want. The sun was shining, and the sky was blue over Loamhedge. The air was warm, not too hot, and stirred by a cool, gentle breeze that helped keep the heat at bay. In the gardens, the leaves were bright green, and the flowers were in full bloom, boasting a mosaic of coloured petals that would please the eye for hours.  
Resting on the ramparts of the west-facing wall, her arms acting as a pillow for her light tan head, her amethyst coloured eyes gazing at the vast stretch of forest and field outside the abbey, a mousemaid was busy taking full advantage of the relaxed mood created by the day. As she was focusing on a single spot, not particularly anywhere at all, she felt her eyelids start to droop and close.  
"Amethyst!"  
Her senses came to full alert and she was suddenly wide-awake, the spell of sleep broken by the call. She turned and looked down into the abbey grounds. Grinning from ear to ear was Arkain, the black hare. He bounced lightly on his feet as he waved her down.  
"Right near lunch time, gel. Come along then, wot!"  
Amethyst rolled her eyes. "There's better things to do than eat."  
Arkain staggered backwards as if he had been dealt a powerful blow to the face. "Like wot, lookin' out at nothin' all day? Hardly, if y' ask me. Now come on, there waitin' for ya in th' Dinin' Hall."  
The mousemaid rested her chin in her hands and batted her eyes. "Waiting for a little mousemaid like myself?"  
Arkain shook his head. "Actually, they jus' told me t' get ya. They've already started eatin' an' if y'ain't comin' any time soon, I'm gonna go join them an' get m'full share o' th' food."  
Amethyst laughed. "You go ahead. I'm not hungry just yet."  
Arkain's jaw dropped to the ground as he stared at her in disbelief. "Not hungry? Y'poor liddle beast, what're they doin' t' ya? Well, could I jus' have your servin's then?"  
Amethyst shrugged. "Sure, why not."  
The sable hare bounded away with a loud whoop. Amethyst shook her head slowly and looked back out over the green forest again. Loamhedge was a quiet, peaceful place, and trouble was a rare visitor. It had been more than twice her lifetime since the last time the abbey had been threatened by anything, and she was certain it would stay that way. She sighed heavily as her eyelids started to drop.  
SNAP!  
Her eyes shot wide open and turned towards the direction of the sound. She could see nothing, at first, save a few moving branches on the smaller trees and bushes. Something was slowly making its way towards the walls of Loamhedge. Amethyst tried to get a better view by leaning over the wall top. An ottermaid crashed into the open, walking in an uneven line towards the side gate. Amethyst was shocked into silence as she stared at the young beast. The brown furred otter had five black stripes, two on the back of her neck, and three more on her back. However, that was not what held the mousemaid's frightened gaze. What did was the pattern of scars that broke the unique pattern on the ottermaid's back; scars from a whip, and most appeared to be very fresh.  
The ottermaid trudged heavily to the gate and sagged against the wall, obviously exhausted from travelling. Amethyst watched as the poor beast raised a paw to knock, and suddenly felt an icy terror cling her as the ottermaid collapsed onto the ground.  
Amethyst bolted down the stairs and towards the main hall. She shoved the heavy door open and cut across to the smaller dining hall. Every beast in the abbey glared at her as the door slammed loudly against the stone wall, each silently demanding a reason for the sudden and uncalled for entrance. Amethyst ignored all of them.  
"Arkain, get a healer, stretcher, and someone to help carry the stretcher. An otter just collapsed outside our western gate."  
  
Natura, the abbey's healer, gently dabbed the young otter's head with a damp rag while Arkain, Amethyst, and Abbess Arum looked on. The healer stopped, pressed her paw against the otter's cheek, and shook her head. The Abbess ran a paw through her silver grey fur and frowned.  
"What's wrong?"  
"She's got a fever, but it will pass soon." Natura dipped the rag in a warm water basin and laid it flat across the otter's forehead.  
"What can you tell us about those scars, are they what I think they are?"  
Natura nodded slowly. "Slaver's whip, and what is more fearful is that some are fresh...not more than a day old."  
Arkain growled. "Then that means they're near our abbey."  
Arum placed a paw on the hare's shoulder. "Don't be too quick to act. I would like to hold a meeting on the matter. If there is one slave, there are others; and I do hope we might be able to do something for them."  
Amethyst shook her head sadly. "What sort of monster would do this?"  
Arkain narrowed his eyes and looked out the infirmary window. "A vermin hold's no qualms about takin' any beast as a slave." He turned and started walking for the door. "Amethyst, if y'ever meet a vermin, don't trust 'em. They'll kill ya. Abbess, call me when th' meetin's startin'."  
The three abbey mice looked back down at the unconscious otter.  
"Why's Arkain so against vermin?"  
The Abbess smiled. "Your curiosity is your strength, Amethyst. Arkain came to our gates as an escaped slave. He made himself a personal battle against all slavers, that is why I caution him about acting too quickly. If he wants to start a war with the slavers, so be it; the slavers will suffer under his wrath. I just want to be sure he comes back alive."  
Amethyst nodded slowly. "What are we going to do with her?" She pointed at the otter.  
"We'll take her in, treat her like she belongs here, and care for her until she is able to care for herself. Loamhedge is open to any beast that wants to enter its gates, so long as their intentions are peaceful. We will treat her no differently. Come now, Amethyst. Leave Natura to her job and let's go to the kitchens. It has reached my ears that you were not at lunch; we shall have to remedy that."  
The Abbess made her way towards the door, beckoning for Amethyst to follow. The younger mousemaid hung back, her amethyst eyes locked on the beaten otter. With a heartfelt sigh, she left the infirmary.  
  
Chapter V  
  
Ghost stood silently beside the watchfire, his meal untouched by his feet. The camp was settling down for the night, and the only things missing were Trent and Bloodwort. The first watch of the night belonged to the ferrets, and Ghost intended to discuss the findings that the two brought back, if they came back.  
Celleste was sitting beside the fire; her gaze shifting from the dancing flames to Ghost. Her brow creased with worry as she noticed the uneaten food on the ground by his feet. With a sigh, she stood and walked over to him, picking the bowl of soup up off the ground.  
"You really ought to eat. You don't expect to last through the watch without food, do you?"  
Ghost took the bowl and stared at its contents. "I'm worried for Trent and Bloodwort. They should have been back by now."  
Celleste frowned. "Why should you be worried, they can take care of themselves. I actually feel safer without those two. Dengar's no better. Those three give me the creeps. If they didn't show up on time, I'd be suspicious."  
"Suspicious of what? What have they done of late that even suggests a conspiracy on their part?"  
"Nothing, but I still don't trust them. You of all creatures should know the art of deception."  
Ghost closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Celleste, how many would trust a pair of ferrets? We are in the same position they are, and we should not suspect them of anything until they have done something to worry about."  
A twig snapped, and the two turned towards the sound as Trent and Bloodwort strode into the camp, discussing their findings. Ghost gave Celleste a warning glance and started towards the two scouts.  
"How goes, friends?"  
Trent bowed. "All is well. We found the landmarks the map pointed out, and we judge to be about two and a half days travel from Loamhedge, if we keep up our current rate of travel, that is." He grinned as Snitch and Dengar glanced their way. Trent yawned and scratched his neck twice. The other two nodded. "How was your day here at the camp?"  
Ghost shrugged. "Not too interesting." He yawned. "You two should get some rest, I think we will strike the camp tomorrow morning and be on our way."  
Trent seemed to notice Ghost's yawn. "Would you like to rest? Bloodwort and I could take the first watch."  
Celleste was quick with a reply. "No, we're fine. You two get some rest and enjoy a full night's sleep."  
Trent eyed Celleste and nodded. "Aye, we will then. Good night, and we'll see you in the morning. Two days more."  
Celleste shot the fox a quick glance. "I thought you said three?"  
"Hmm? Oh, yes, three." Trent waved his paw, as if motioning that it did not matter. "I'm just tired, that's all. Good night, again."  
Celleste hissed as soon as the two were out of earshot.  
"I told you they were up to something."  
Ghost shook his head. "You mean that 'two days' thing? He said he was just tired. Anyone could make that mistake."  
"If he was so tired, why did he offer to take our watch? If he were so tired, he would have fallen asleep. Trent was the leader of his group, surely he knew that he would just put the rest of us in danger by taking the watch if he was so tired."  
Ghost was silent for a moment. She had a point and her argument made sense. "Alright," he said after a long pause. "I'm going to watch the four of them from here on out. I don't think you are right on this conspiracy thing, but something is starting to seem odd about them." He glanced back at the four foxes; they all appeared to be sleeping. "If I do feel they are really up to something, I will have Montel become their permanent chaperone, or I will simply have them leave the Watch."  
Celleste smiled and threw her arms around Ghost. "Good. I'm glad to see you've finally come to your senses." She hugged him tightly. "Just think, three more days."  
"Aye, three days, and then what?'  
"Forever. What else?"  
  



	2. Part Two: Crimson Sun

Part Two  
Crimson Sun  
  
Chapter I  
  
Abbess Arum wandered about the abbey grounds searching for Amethyst. She had been almost everywhere, and still there was no sign of the mousemaid. It had been a full day since the mysterious ottermaid had found her way to the gates, and news had reached the Abbess' ears just after lunch; she was awake, yet not talking. Amethyst had been worried about the otter's well being to the point of not eating dinner the night before, and now that she was awake, Abbess Arum wanted to have Amethyst try to talk. Both were young, about the same age, and Amethyst had a way with getting into conversations with even the shyest beast. There was one problem, however, and that was the sudden disappearance of Amethyst.  
"Find her yet?"  
The Abbess glanced over her shoulder at the black hare. "No. Arkain, you know her, where does she like to hang about?"  
Arkain shrugged. "Anywhere that offers a view o' both sky an' earth. She wanders about more'n we used t' wi'th' Long Patrol."  
Arum frowned. "As long as she does not wander as far from here as you did from Salamandastron." She frowned and looked around the garden. "You don't think she's here, do you?" She sighed and cupped a paw around her mouth. "AMETHYST!"  
The call was answered by silence, and the two were about to look elsewhere when the familiar voice answered from up a tree.  
"What happened that you had to wake me from my sleep?"  
The Abbess rubbed her eyelids, warding off what could very well have led to a headache. "Amethyst, it is me, Abbess Arum."  
The mousemaid dropped from the tree, brushing dust off her dark green habit. "Terribly sorry, I didn't recognise your voice. I never heard you shout before."  
"And you never will again. We've been looking for you since lunch ended, our guest is awake."  
"She is? What's her name?"  
Arkain shook his head. "I'm 'fraid she's not talkin'. We wanted y't' come an' give it a try. Y've got a natural talent fer startin' conversations."  
Amethyst nodded. "Alright, I'll try."  
The three crossed the abbey grounds to the stairs leading up to the back door of the infirmary. The Abbess and Arkain were quick to motion for Amethyst to go up first. She smiled and climbed the stairs.  
In the infirmary, the otter was sitting up in bed, her feet dangling a hairbreadth from the floor and eyes locked on the empty bed next to hers. Natura had busied herself with running through the inventory list of the infirmary's stock. Amethyst silently crossed the room and sat down on the bed opposite the otter's.  
"Hello there. Welcome to Loamhedge."  
The otter slowly looked up at Amethyst, her eyes showing the stubbornness to remain silent. Then, just as slowly, her gaze fell to the floor in front of her.  
"My name is Amethyst. I was the one that found you at our gates."  
Again, the otter looked up, but instead of looking back down, she glanced at the other occupants in the room, then back at Amethyst.  
Amethyst gave a nod and walked over to the Abbess. "Um, Abbess, I think she wants you to leave...all of you."  
Natura glanced over her shoulder. "Why should I leave? This is my infirmary."  
"Natura, I think it would be in our guest's best interests if you did. Come on, I'll have the friar serve up some tea." Abbess Arum took the healer by the paw and started pulling her out. "Come on, Arkain, you too, though the friar'll have a fit at having to feed you this early." She exited through the door to the hallway.  
Arkain nodded to Amethyst. "I'll see y'later, don't 'ave too much fun without me!" He bowed to the otter and bounded out after the Abbess and healer.  
Amethyst silently closed the door behind the hare and turned back to the otter.  
"Is that better?"  
The otter nodded.  
Amethyst crossed the room and sat back down on the bed.  
"Can I ask you a few questions?"  
The otter nodded.  
"Will you speak?"  
There was a long moment of complete silence, as neither mouse nor otter moved. Then, in a soft voice that Amethyst had to strain to hear, the otter answered.  
"Yes."  
Amethyst gave the otter a friendly grin. "My name's Amethyst." She offered her paw.  
The otter took the paw in a surprisingly strong and firm grip and gave it a light shake. "Call me Blackstrike."  
Amethyst smiled. "Welcome to Loamhedge, Blackstrike."  
"It's good t' be here. Thank you for yore help, I'm in yore debt."  
The mousemaid shook her head. "Nonsense. We would do that for any beast who was injured, except for snakes. The Abbess doesn't trust snakes."  
Blackstrike grinned, apparently finding that piece of information humorous. "So, Amethyst, what is this place?"  
Amethyst took a deep breath and started to explain the standards and history of Loamhedge to Blackstrike.  
  
Chapter II  
  
Eagle Watch was one day from Loamhedge, and the anticipation had brought a cheery mood to everyone. Even Snitch, who was always quiet and shy, was laughing and making comical quips about his Foxtribe companions. Only one was unaffected, and he was constantly stopping to examine the trail along the way. Trent was drawing a lot of attention on himself, and Ghost was becoming more nervous around the fox.  
"I told you," Celleste whispered across to him. "Don't trust a fox."  
Ghost shushed her as Trent came to a sudden stop. The fox circled a few times, as if getting his bearings straight, and then growled in frustration.  
"We've missed it. There was a landmark to help keep us going straight, and I think we missed it."  
Dengar glanced around at his surroundings, as though it was the first time he had noticed. "Aye, I don't remember seeing this during the scouting missions. Maybe we should set up camp until we find out just where here is."  
Ghost pulled out the worn journal he had been given by the badger lord of Salamandastron and looked at the map in the back. "Well, according to this map-"  
"Let me see the map." Trent jogged over and snatched the book away, studying the map. He shook his head after a while. "No, we missed it. Here, look. This is where we are supposed to be...we're here, I think."  
Ghost took the book back and studied the map for himself. "I don't think so, we haven't taken the wrong turn yet, why would we now?"  
"You never know, when you are dealing with the forest." Bloodwort chuckled and shrugged. "I once got myself lost for two days, and I knew the territory like the back of my paw."  
Ghost closed the book. "Well, I don't want to stop, but if we need to sort this mess out," he glared at Trent. "Then I have no choice. Elflein, get some lunch ready, I want to have a word with our two scouts. Celleste, you come too." He started to walk away, then stopped and turned to face the rest of the group. "Montel, I would like you to join us as well."  
Montel nodded. "Be right there, just give me a minute."  
Ghost pointed to Bloodwort and Trent. "You two, come."  
He led them to a small, out of the way spot, out of earshot of the main camp. "Why are we lost? You have never led us wrong up until this point, and I can't imagine why we would be lost now." He paused as Montel wandered in. "Now then, we are going to look at this...mess and figure out a way to fix it. If we are lost, then I don't want to risk travelling onward only to get further from Loamhedge. So, I am going to trust you two on this call." He caught a glare from Celleste out of the corner of his eye. "Are we or are we not lost?"  
Bloodwort glanced sidelong at Trent, and the two gave each other a reluctant nod.  
"Yes, we are. Bloodwort and I have no memory of setting eyes on this sight during our scouting missions, and it has been a while since we last spotted a landmark. If you would like, we can scout around and find the right trail, I have a feeling I know where it is."  
Ghost hesitated. "Not the two of you together. I want to send someone from the Watch with you. Trent, you stay here, Bloodwort can go."  
Trent nodded politely. "Of course. I'll busy myself with studying the map." He walked back towards the camp in silence.  
"Now then, Bloodwort, I am going to send you with Montel. The two of you should have no problems finding out where we are."  
There was a shout from the camp that Ghost immediately recognised as Corbin.  
"Hey, Montel, they want us to make our Warrior Soup. Come on and give a hand!"  
Celleste grabbed Ghost by the arm and leaned in close to whisper. "I'll go. I am somewhat familiar with these parts from studying the maps. When you get back to camp, have Lady Flynt follow us out of view."  
Ghost started to shake his head.  
"Remember, we know they are up to something, they don't know we know. We can surprise them."  
"Fine," Ghost said after much hesitation. "Go, but be careful."  
She kissed him on the cheek. "Aw, you know me better than that."  
Ghost chuckled. "Alright. Bloodwort, change in plans. You are going with Celleste. Montel, make your soup. I want to be out of here and back on track by this afternoon."  
Bloodwort nodded and, after consulting his copy of the map, made off due west. Celleste started to follow, but not before winking to Ghost, who simply mouthed the words 'be careful.' Then, they were gone. Ghost nodded to Montel.  
"Send Lady Flynt in here, get to making lunch."  
The badger nodded and ambled back to the camp. After a minute, Lady Flynt strode in, her bow slung over her shoulder.  
"You called?"  
"Yes, Lady Flynt, I did. I need you to follow Bloodwort and Celleste. To be honest, I don't trust the foxes, and I would appreciate it if you kept an eye on her from a distance. Celleste and I have thought that they have been up to something for some time now, and I want to start keeping them where we can watch them."  
"Alright. What about the other three?"  
"Well, they're back at the camp. The rest of the Watch can keep an eye on them."  
Lady Flynt suddenly stood up straight. "If you think that, then you're right about a conspiracy. Trent's not at the camp."  
Ghost's heart skipped a beat, and during that time he drew his daggers and started running west. "Get back to camp. If he show up, detain him. I don't care if he knows we don't trust him. Keep an eye on the other two."  
Lady Flynt nodded and darted back to the camp.  
  
Celleste looked around at the surrounding forest and shook her head. "I don't remember seeing this on the map."  
"Relax." Bloodwort paused and pointed towards a line of bushes. "Maps are never completely accurate." He started walking towards the bushes, motioning Celleste to follow. "Besides, I am pretty certain I know where we are."  
Celleste glanced around at the trees, silently hoping to catch a glimpse of Lady Flynt. "Well, that's a relief. Makes one of us, at least." She looked back down. Bloodwort had moved on and had pushed his way through the bushes and out of view. "Well, ain't that dandy, just leave me all alone here"  
Pain suddenly exploded from the back of her skull, and she fell to the ground; temporarily blinded by the blow. A low chuckle came from behind her, as she reached back to rub the sore spot on her head.  
"Get up and turn around, I like my victims to see the blow coming."  
She blinked until her sight came back to her and glanced over her shoulder at Trent. "How long did it take you to think that line up?"  
Trent gave her a sharp kick to the side, sending her sprawling onto her back. "You killed one of the members of my tribe. I told you I would kill you for that, so here I am."  
Celleste's eyes focused on the fox, then the loaded sling he was idly twirling at his side. "You know how to use that?"  
Trent grinned coldly and nodded. "Of course. Your sister taught me."  
Celleste somehow found that she was not afraid of the fox. "You know, Lady Flynt's on her way."  
Trent shook her head. "No. By now, they are finding out for themselves that Foxtribe was never dead, like you will be in a moment."  
Celleste nodded slowly. Then, without warning, she kicked dust up at Trent's face and turned to run. Trent raised a paw to block the dust, gave the sling a good whirl, and loosed the stone. There was a crack as stone hit skull, and Celleste fell to the ground.  
Trent stared at the body for a second, then looked around for Bloodwort. The fellow Foxtribe member appeared from the east and nodded. Ghost was on his way.  
  
Chapter III  
  
Montel silently stirred his soup with a spoon as he glared at Dengar and Snitch. The two foxes were withering under his harsh glare.  
"Where's Trent?"  
Dengar shook his head. "I don't know. I told you, he tends to wander off on his own sometimes. He'll be back soon."  
Montel shook his head. "I don't buy that."  
Snitch shrugged. "Too bad. It don't matter anyway."  
Dengar smacked the younger fox and glared at him. "Just keep your mouth shut."  
Snitch bared his fangs and hissed. "I told you to cut that out."  
"Yeah, what're you going to do about it?"  
Snitch drew his rapier and slashed at the other fox, who nimbly stepped backwards and out of the way of the blade. "I'll cut you to pieces," he grinned. "After I warn them." He looked over his shoulder at Montel. "Trent's having the Foxtribe attack. They'll be here soon."  
Dengar acted quickly. The blade of his dagger flashed as it flew from its sheath and buried itself up to its hilt in the younger fox's chest. "Sorry Snitch, no room for traitors." He held the body up like a shield between himself and the badger. "Sorry, Montel, look's like you've been had."  
"Not so fast, vermin."  
Dengar glanced sideways and hissed at himself for not watching his back and Lady Flynt grinned at him as she loosed the shaft. She did not even wait for the body to fall before she was sounding the alarm.  
"Come on, prepare for attack. Foxtribe's comin'. Montel, see if you can move that fallen tree here for a wall. Corbin, where's Solace? Don't know? Find her now. Right then, Elflein, duck!"  
The warning was too late and Elflein fell to the ground, wounded from a black shafted arrow to the shoulder. Two more shafts whistled through the air, one clipping Lady Flynt's ear. The attack was happening too fast for the group to organise a defence. It was Montel's booming voice that sounded the single, most welcomed word any members of the Watch had heard. Retreat.  
The Watch darted into the trees to escape the hail of arrows. Montel gripped his axe and glanced back at the camp.  
"I can see them sneaking around this way. Alright, listen up, here's what we're going to do. Elflein, you and Solace head west and try to find Ghost and Celleste. Lady Flynt, get up in a tree and show them what a real archer can do with those arrows. Corbin," He glanced around, searching for the mouse warrior. "Where's Corbin?"  
Montel glanced back at the camp again only to confirm his fears. Putting the emotions aside, he looked back at the group. "Right then, Solace, you're taking Elflein west. Flynt and I are going to stay back and give them all blood and vinegar. They're going to wish they never tangled with Eagle Watch."  
He turned and cupped a paw around his mouth. "Come on, you vermin! Second one here gets to watch the first die!" He ducked as an arrow whistled past him. "You ready, Flynt?" He glanced back to make sure Solace and Elflein were gone. The two had already vanished from view.  
"Montel, if this's our last stand; it was an honour."  
The badger chuckled and tightened his grip on the axe. "It ain't over yet." A fox showed its face around a tree, and Montel swung the axe. "EEUULAALIAAA!"  
  
Ghost gripped his daggers tightly as he crept noiselessly through the forest. So far, he had seen nothing out of the ordinary, save the usual broken twig that showed someone had been through there earlier. His ears were alert and tuned in to any sound that might have been out of place, hoping to single in on Bloodwort and Celleste. His eyes scanned his surroundings until they came to a rest on a row of bushes, whose broken branches betrayed the path taken by the fox. He silently pushed through them, ready to fight if needed.  
The sight that he found twisted his stomach in knots and made his heart stand still. A sob rose and stuck in his throat, and one dagger slipped from his left paw to the ground, the other hanging loosely from his fingertips. Lying on the ground, as though in a deep sleep, was Celleste. A faint trickle of blood ran from the back of her head where a stone had hit her, down her cheek, and onto the ground where it was beginning to form a small pool. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he staggered forward. His knees buckled suddenly, and he fell to his paws and knees at her side. He rolled her onto her back and hugged the lifeless form, sobbing.  
"I'm sorry, I should have listened to you."  
A low chuckle rose, and he whirled about to face its owner, dagger gripped tightly in paw.  
"Ghost, poor unfortunate Ghost. Blaming yourself for her death, are you?" Trent shook his head. "Remember, she wanted to go. You were so certain you could blindside me, weren't you?" He chuckled again. "No one, not even you, out foxes a fox."  
Ghost took a step forward, the anger rising through his tears. "A fair fight, you and me."  
Trent studied the ferret for a moment. "Alright. Rapier and dagger. Bloodwort, give him your blade and prepare to watch a master." He grinned and drew his rapier.  
Ghost did not take his eyes off of Trent as Bloodwort handed him a rapier, nor did he hesitate to attack. Metal rang as it clashed against metal, and both beasts were locked in a mortal combat.  
"You know," Trent said as he blocked a blow and locked all four of the blades together at their hilts. "You won't die by my paws. I'll let Bloodwort kill you."  
Ghost pushed his weight against the locked blades, trying to gain an advantage over the fox. "We'll see who kills who."  
Trent shook his head. "No. I'm pretty sure you will die."  
The fox freed his dagger and stabbed at Ghost's exposed side, leaving the dagger where it had buried itself. Ghost fell to the ground, dropping his blades and grasping the dagger in his side in pain. Trent pressed the tip of his rapier against Ghost's throat.  
"I told you, you will die." He nodded to Bloodwort and started walking away. "Oh, and Ghost," he turned around to face the ferret. "Just so you know, she died without much of a fight." He turned and left.  
Ghost glared after Trent and started to stand, but a strong paw shoved him roughly back down.  
"Listen up, ferret, because I will only tell you this once. I'll let you die quickly, or slowly and I'm going to let you chose."  
Ghost looked up at Bloodwort. "Just bring your rapier down on my neck and get it over with."  
Bloodwort looked disappointed. "I wanted to have some fun too, but oh well." He raised his rapier over his head.  
Ghost pulled the dagger from his side and slashed at Bloodwort's feet. The fox screamed and fell over. Without wasting a moment, Ghost threw himself on the fox and drove the dagger down, piercing the heart. Bloodwort's shocked expression was frozen on a lifeless face.  
He released the dagger and crawled over to where Celleste was lying. Taking her in his arms, he gave her a final hug and kiss and pushed himself to his feet.  
"Celleste, I am sorry I didn't believe you from the start. Maybe one day you will forgive me, and I will be able to join you again."  
Holding the wound in his side, he turned and ran, not truly caring where he ended up. All he knew was that he needed to live so he could take his revenge on the Foxtribe.  
  
Solace glanced back as she heard the badger's war cry. "Hope they get out of it alive, Elflein."  
"Aye, I'm worried fer m' sister too, an' Ghost. What d'ye think happened to them?"  
Both froze as the soft ringing of metal being drawn from a sheath reached their ears.  
"Oh, I'll bet I can tell you exactly what happened to those two."  
Solace spun to face Trent. "Get out o' here, Elflein, I'll take 'im."  
Trent laughed. "You? I've had better fights from dormice." He held the rapier up. "But if you insist, I'll go easy on you."  
Solace growled and pulled a dirk from her belt. "Make my day, fox."  
Trent charged; his first and only mistake for the fight. Solace rolled onto her back and kicked up under the blade, planting a solid blow to his stomach with both feet. Trent fell back, winded, and tried to stagger to his feet. Solace jumped to her feet and charged him, not waiting for him to recover. Metal clashed on metal as he brought his rapier up to ward off the dirk. Elflein took the opportunity to attack with a paring knife she used for cooking. Trent panicked and thrust blindly with his rapier while trying to kick the enraged hare off him.  
There was a sudden lull in the battle, and the Foxtribe leader was able to assess the situation. He found it more pleasing than he had anticipated. His rapier had struck home, and Elflein was lying on the ground dead. Solace was recovering from a hefty kick that had sent her sprawling onto the ground. Trent stood and brushed himself off.  
"They are dead, Solace. I killed Celleste and Elflein, Bloodwort killed Ghost, and my Foxtribe will kill the rest of them."  
Solace rolled onto her feet and felt a lump form in her throat as she spotted Elflein's lifeless figure. The fight, she knew, was lost. She had learned from her days in training at Salamandastron that in times like this the best thing to do was regroup. She stood and nodded to Trent.  
"Fine, you win this once. But we'll see if y'can live a full life. I'll have your hide as a rug."  
"So you are going to give up?"  
Solace narrowed her eyes and hopped into the depths of the forest.  
  
Chapter IV  
  
Abbess Arum smiled warmly as Amethyst introduced her to Blackstrike. The otter was, as many had feared, an escaped slave. What was even more fearful, however, was the news that slavers were close to Loamhedge and drawing nearer each day. However, that would be a matter best faced when it arrived. First, there was a new friend to make feel at home.  
"Blackstrike, it is our wish that you find Loamhedge to be a place of refuge, a new home, and a haven for you to spend the rest of your days if it is your will to do so. For as long as you stay here, we will extend only the warmest hospitality to you. As the Abbess of this fine abbey, I would like to say welcome to Loamhedge."  
Blackstrike, now clad in a fresh, forest green habit, grinned sheepishly, slightly embarrassed by all of the attention she was getting. "Well, thankee marm. Uh...I guess I'd just like t' say thanks fer takin' me in. I'll stay here a good long time, an' I hope time's good t' us all."  
A squirrel suddenly burst through the doors of the Main Hall and ran up to the Abbess.  
"I thought you'd like to know this," he took a deep breath. "A wounded ferret just collapsed outside the gates. We're debating whether or not to bring him in."  
The Abbess frowned. "How bad is he?"  
"Hard to tell, but he looks bad."  
Arum nodded. "Bring him in, but keep him under tight watch." She glanced at Blackstrike. "Come on, I want you to tell me if he is one of the slavers."  



	3. Part Three: Dusk

Part Three  
Dusk  
  
Chapter I  
  
Solace sat in silence as the light from the sun started to fade away. A part of her told her that they had all been killed, and to leave while she still lived. Another, considerably louder, had told her to wait a short while longer. That short while had turned into all afternoon, right up until dusk. However, she still had yet to see any sign of a living beast, fox and friend alike. Now there was nothing left to do but sit and wait, and pray that somehow everything would take a turn for the better. A loud crack shot through the air, and she jumped, grabbing for the dirk in her belt.  
"Who's there?"  
"Solace, it's me, Lady Flynt," answered a faint, whispering voice. "We've been looking everywhere for you." The squirrelmaid jumped down and gave her a grateful hug. "Where's Elflein?"  
Solace shook her head. "Trent attacked us and killed her. Where's Montel?"  
"He's back at the camp, digging. We found Celleste."  
The hare's shoulders sagged. "Trent told us that he killed 'er, an' Ghost too."  
Lady Flynt looked down at the ground. "We didn't find Ghost."  
"The Watch is gone."  
Lady Flynt frowned. "Why?"  
"We'll never rebuild it, ain't ever gonna be th' same. We were backstabbed by a bunch o' vermin an' nothin's gonna put it all right save one thing."  
"I'm afraid to ask, but what?"  
Solace narrowed her eyes and spoke in a low, cold voice. "Revenge. I say we track th' beasts down an' kill th' whole bally lot o' them."  
Lady Flynt shook her head. "Montel and I discussed that. We don't see how it would solve anything. We did, however, come up with a different idea, one that would keep the spirit of the Watch alive. There's a group up in Mossflower that's starting a resistance against a tyrannical ruler. We could be of more help there than chasing some fox who's already long gone."  
Solace stared off into the distance, deep in thought. "Alright. I'll go along with th' both o' ya. Just promise that no matter what, we stay together as a group."  
"Agreed. Now come on, there's work to be done back at camp. We need to find Elflein and lay her to rest."  
Lady Flynt turned and slowly trudged back towards the camp. Solace watched her for a moment before following in silence. It had been a dark day, and the sun had failed to shine on the situation entirely. Now, after losing her brother to an assassin's blade, she had lost four friends to betrayal. She silently vowed never to trust a fox for as long as she lived.  
  
Montel drove Corbin's longsword deep into the ground at the head of a freshly covered grave. The badger's dark eyes showed no traces of the pain he felt at losing his companion. He rubbed his tired eyes and looked off into the distance.  
"Corbin, by my word, you will not be forgotten. If it be in the will of fate, I will join you while fighting for freedom. The warrior's path always leads to death, whether it be his own or that of another, but it never prepares you for the pain." He walked over to where his axe was leaning against a tree and picked the weapon up, slinging it over his shoulder. "Rest, now, friend. Your troubles are over."  
He glanced up at the sound of approaching footfalls and nodded as Solace and Lady Flynt entered, bearing Elflein between them. He shook his head sadly; another one to bury. If he could have done so, he would have made Foxtribe pay for what they had done, and had he been within the badger's reach, nothing would have saved Trent from a painful and bloody death.  
  
Chapter II  
  
"He's coming around. Arkain, keep an eye on him. Blackstrike didn't recognise him, but that does not mean he is to be trusted."  
"Of course, Abbess. One should never trust vermin."  
The voices seemed to be coming through a hazy veil, and Ghost could not seem to break through it to the other side. His head and side ached terribly, and he felt as though he could not move his limbs.  
"Alright, listen to me carefully, ferret. I have a few things I want to ask you, and I would appreciate it if you answered truthfully. We did help you out, after all, and we would like the favour returned in some way."  
"Abbess, ask about this."  
Ghost blinked until his surroundings became faintly visible. He was in an infirmary, surrounded by beasts, most likely mice, and what appeared to be an all black hare. One of the mice was waving a rectangular object.  
"Where did you find that?"  
"He dropped it when we picked him up. It looks like a journal of some sorts...but look at this, Loamscript."  
Ghost was suddenly wide-awake, and his eyes snapped to focus on the journal. "Where am I."  
One of the mice, an older, more stern looking one, turned back towards him, pushing a pair of spectacles up the bridge of her nose. "You are in Loamhedge." She looked back at the mouse who was holding his journal. "Let me see that, Amethyst. Why didn't you tell me you had it before?"  
"You never asked."  
The older mouse thumbed through the pages, stopping to read something and whispering unheard comments to herself. She stopped suddenly, after turning the last four pages and finding them blank. Looking back down at him, she closed the journal.  
"Ghost, I take it that is your name, you are fortunate to have been carrying this. Arkain, remove the restraints, he can be trusted. I wish to have a word with him alone."  
The black hare started to protest, but was silenced by a swift glance from the elder mouse. Ghost felt something around his wrists loosen, and then watched as the room was vacated by the others, leaving him alone with the mouse.  
"Who are you?" he asked.  
"I am Abbess Arum of Loamhedge, call me whatever you like." She handed the journal to him. "Can you read or write Loamscript?"  
"No. This was given to me by the badger at Salamandastron."  
Arum nodded. "So it said on the first page." She looked down at the floor. "What happened to the rest of your group?"  
"Trent and his three Foxtribe friends betrayed us." He opened the journal and thumbed through the last four pages. "He killed Celleste. I don't know what happened to the rest of them. For all I know, they are dead too."  
Arum patted his paw. "I'm sorry. I'm sure we would have enjoyed their company here." She stood. "Now I want you to get some rest. Loamhedge will offer you a place to stay for as long as you want, but be forewarned that some here do not take kindly to vermin. I don't want to insult you, but that is the truth. Also, if you would not mind all too much, I would like to read this."  
Ghost nodded. "Feel free to. Let me know when you are finished, though, I want to fill the last four pages."  
The Abbess nodded. "I will send someone in to see if you need anything later on. Try to sleep for now."  
Ghost was suddenly aware of how tired he was, and nodded drowsily as his eyelids slowly closed. Within minutes, he was sleeping and dreaming of the future that he would never have, with Celleste at his side forever.  
  
Chapter III  
  
Scarstripe was chewing on a thin splinter of wood h had pulled from a tree while he calmly awaited the return of his scouts. At his side, Myriad silently paced back and forth, glancing at Mantis, who was sitting in the lower boughs of a tree. The ermine was silently testing the edge on one of his daggers. A hapless stoat was standing before Scarstripe, not meeting his commander's cool gaze, and all the while hoping the scouts returned with good news.  
"Myriad, stop pacing. You are making our friend here nervous."  
Myriad gave Scarstripe a cold stare. "I'm not th' only one. Maybe ye should stop starin' him down."  
"Don't tell me what to do." Scarstripe glared at her. "Remember who the commander is here."  
"Don't tell me what t' do." She met his gaze and smirked. "Remember why yer here?"  
Scarstripe gave in. "All right, Myriad. Something's on your mind. Would you care to share it with the rest of us?"  
Myriad froze in mid-stride and looked back at Scarstripe. "Yes, as a matter o' fact." She walked up to him until they were nose to nose. "I say ye let her go. Forget trying t' catch her an' bring her back. Knowing ye, ye'd only kill her."  
Scarstripe stared at her for a moment and broke out laughing. "Really? So you want me to let her get away. If we do find her, what should we do with her?"  
"Leave her be. Don't kill her with a beatin', ye do that enough as it is."  
Scarstripe stepped back and pointed at her with an accusing finger while he addressed the others around him. "Look here, I show you one who has gone soft and proposes to lessen our discipline of the slaves." He turned and glared at her. "Leave it up to a girl to tell me how to rule my horde and my servants."  
Myriad crossed her arms in front of her and bared her teeth. "Lets discuss who was too cowardly t' kill-"  
Scarstripe cut her off with a swift backhand. "We agreed not to discuss that. It was a technicality on our part. Now if you don't like the way I run my horde, leave. Otherwise try to put a leash on your tongue."  
Myriad said nothing, nor did she show any signs that the backhand had hurt. Her jaw ached, but her eyes were ice-cold. "Scarstripe, just remember how ye got where ye are, an' know that some o' us are out fer our own safety, not yours."  
Unseen by Scarstripe, Mantis grinned and nodded in response to Myriad's statement. Scarstripe locked his eyes on Myriad's and scratched his chin thoughtfully.  
"So, you willingly admit to being a traitor?"  
Myriad laughed. "Don't flatter yerself, sir. I ain't a traitor, an' yer not gonna pin that title on me. I'm protected, an' there ain't more'n a few that'd believe ye."  
"So what you are telling me is that there is a conspiracy within my ranks." He turned to the stoat, who had hoped he had been forgotten for the time being. "It seems a shame, doesn't it? I might have to purge my staff of conspirators and start a new one."  
"Yes...I suppose so." The stoat grinned, hoping he had said the right thing.  
A thin weasel with greased fur wandered in, his brow matted with sweat from a run. "Scarstripe, sir?"  
Scarstripe raised his paws and looked back at the weasel, a grin immediately forming on his face. "My scouts return, proving to me that they are not terribly slow and worthless. What news, come and tell all."  
"Well, th' otter's in Loam'edge. Ain't no way we could've caught 'er."  
Scarstripe pondered the scout's report for a moment. "Well, won't she be surprised when we take it over. Maybe then she will realise I do not tolerate disobedience, and that there is no place to hide from me. You can go."  
"But sir, that ain't all. Those foxes, well, they're in th' camp askin' fer our leader."  
Scarstripe blinked a few times, startled by the news. "Make haste and send their leader to me." He pointed at the stoat. "I'll deal with you letting my servant escape later. Go and make yourself busy."  
The stoat nodded and bustled off while the scout vanished into the main body of the camp. He returned a while later followed by a fox. Scarstripe stared at the guest; more interested in the crimson cape than the beast itself. He waved that aside and offered his paw.  
"Scarstripe, commander of the Bloodslayers."  
The fox nodded, not making any move to accept the offered paw. "Trent Silverblade. I am head of Foxtribe."  
Scarstripe lowered his paw. "Why are you here, Trent?"  
"Well, we were recently attacked by a group of woodlanders up north. Our already small numbers were lowered to about a score. The group is holed up in Loamhedge, and we would enjoy having a little revenge."  
Scarstripe's ears perked up. "Warriors in Loamhedge? Our scouts never reported such movements. I believe you are lying."  
Trent's eyes glinted slightly. "Well, your scouts would not chance to notice everything that comes to pass, would they? Besides, they are small and would easily escape an unsuspecting eye."  
"Just who, exactly, is in this group?"  
Trent thought for a moment. "There were seven. One male badger, one female otter, one male mouse, one female hare, one female squirrel, and a ferret couple. The mouse, otter, and female ferret are dead, and the other ferret was wounded, though I am not certain just how severely."  
Myriad eyed Trent with a curious look on her face. "Why would a couple o' ferrets be in a woodlander group?"  
"Long story, but I'm afraid you'll never hear it unless you ask them." He grinned. "It is rather interesting, though. They were on their way to Loamhedge to be wed. If Ghost doesn't die from his wounds, then misery should finish him off."  
Myriad nodded and glanced back at Mantis. The assassin raised his dagger to his lips, indicating for her to remain silent. She looked back at the fox. "Right, well if ye killed off half o' their group, they won't be much of a threat."  
Trent laughed and looked at Scarstripe. "Do you always let her speak that freely?"  
Scarstripe frowned. "She is my advisor. Personally, I don't think that the warrior group you speak of would be much of a threat to me." He then added almost as an after note, "And I'm not sure I believe your story completely."  
Trent chuckled. "Well, you got me on that one. I wasn't telling the whole truth. We weren't attacked, they were. Four of my foxtribe, including myself, were members of the group. We attacked them when we felt the time was right. I killed the ferretmaid myself."  
Scarstripe grinned. "That sounds more like a fox. We could use that skill. I will give you and your Foxtribe a spot among our ranks. They will only answer to you, but you will answer to me."  
Trent nodded. "Agreed."  
The two shook paws and nodded. Myriad silently excused herself and walked towards the centre of the camp. Mantis took the opportunity to disappear, leaving Scarstripe and Trent alone to discuss their alliance.  
  
Chapter IV  
  
Ghost was lying in the infirmary bed, his gaze constantly shifting over to the otter at the far end of the room. The mousemaid that had found his journal -he later learned her name was Amethyst- was setting a tray with tea and scones down on a small bedside table. The otter was glaring at him, the lack of trust showing in her eyes.  
"There you go. You'll never be able to say we starved you here." Amethyst handed Ghost a cup of tea. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen a ferret before."  
Ghost nodded, looking away from the otter and at his cup of tea. "Well, I hope I'm the last. All of the others I ever knew were killers." He considered his words for a second. "I take that back, there was one other I knew that was not. She's dead now."  
Amethyst sat down in a chair next to the bed. "Well, if it weren't for the Abbess' decision to let you stay, I could name a few that would have sent you out as soon as you got here. Not all of us are as trusting as the Abbess is."  
Ghost took a sip of tea. "Does that include you?"  
Amethyst nodded slowly. "Yes, it does. But that doesn't mean I won't give everyone a chance to prove me otherwise."  
"You remind me of me. I said almost the same thing about a fox. He's the reason why I'm not here with all of my friends."  
Amethyst recalled something she had read in the journal. "Was Trent his name?"  
Ghost nodded. "He betrayed the group. I never saw it coming, but Celleste did. She never trusted him for a minute." He closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Yet she died and I lived."  
"I never read more than a line or two of the journal. I never heard about Celleste. Who was she?"  
"A ferret, like myself. One of the most beautiful things I had ever clapped eyes on." He opened his eyes and focused them on the beaker of tea. "She was the sister of an otter, Elflein, who was also a part of our group. I don't know what happened to the rest of them, all I can hope is that they got away before the Foxtribe attacked."  
Amethyst looked back at Blackstrike for a moment. "Well, I am sorry for what happened to you. Rest easy and hope for tomorrow, that's what I always say."  
Ghost shook his head. "I think I used to say that too."  
Amethyst frowned and stood. "Can I get you anything else?"  
Ghost shook his head.  
"Well, then get some rest."  
She walked over to the door, where Blackstrike was waiting, and the two exited the room in silence. As soon as the door was shut, Amethyst sighed and shook her head.  
"Sad case. What do you think about him?"  
Blackstrike shook her head. "I don't trust 'im. I quit trustin' vermin a long time ago, right about when I got these." She pointed to her back, indicating the scars from whips. "Why, what do ye think about 'im?"  
"Well," she scratched her head. "I think he can be trusted. I also think that once he's through moping he might also be a bit more cheery. The Abbess said to let him mope for a while."  
"All th' more time fer 'im t' plan somethin'."  
Amethyst gave her friend a curious look. "Are you always this suspicious of beasts?"  
Blackstrike snorted. "Only vermin."  
"Well, as long as you don't think that way about me. Come on, Arkain wanted us to try some new pie thing he thought up. I hope your stomach's able to hold it in."  
  
  
  
  
Chapter V  
  
Mantis frowned. "I personally think that you are crazy."  
Myriad glanced around nervously. She always felt like she was being watched, and Mantis' naturally soft voice only added to the effect. "Well, I think that I'm right on this one. That fox's bad news. He's gonna gain favour with Scarstripe, an' I'll bet that before long he'll have me replaced."  
Mantis pressed his paws together and gave Myriad a semi-cold stare. "I could care less. If you go how does that hold an effect on me?"  
"It will. I could easily declare ye as an accomplice."  
Mantis patted her reassuringly on the shoulder. "Well, never you mind. I think you are right. Earlier today, I saw him talking with Darkbane, the new assassin. The two seem to know each other. If his claims about tearing that group apart from the inside are true, then he could be trying the same thing here."  
"Aye, I know. Isn't that awful what he did?"  
Mantis gave her a curious look. "What?"  
"To th' ferrets."  
Mantis chuckled. "Maybe Scarstripe was right. You seem to be going soft."  
"No, I'm not." She pointed a finger at him. "Ye know as well as every'ne else here that I've never agreed with war or slaves."  
"You are right there. I could also point out that you are a ferret as well." He grinned mockingly. "Could it be that you hold sympathy for this 'Ghost', who is also a ferret?"  
"No. None at all. I think he was a fool t' trust a fox in th' first place. Why should I feel sorry fer him?"  
Mantis shrugged. "You never know."  
"Well, just watch yerself."  
The assassin shrugged. "You know me. I always watch." He turned and left, vanishing into the surrounding bushes.  
Myriad shuddered. Vanishing was his favourite trick, and he knew it sent shivers down her spine.  
"Hello there."  
The voice of the fox was another thing that sent shivers down her spine. She turned to face Trent.  
"Hello, Trent."  
"I don't believe we've been formally introduced." He grinned. "What was your name again?"  
"Myriad."  
He nodded. "Myriad. Well, you already know my name."  
"Ye didn't speak very kindly of me when ye were with Scarstripe." She crossed her arms and glared at him.  
"Well, I spent the last season or so with a ferretmaid. She drove me crazy. You heard what I did to her in the end, though. I guess I was just taking a little of what was left out on you." He grinned.  
"Don't give me that phoney grin. Ye don't fool me one bit. Jus' watch yer back, fox." She huffed and walked away.  



	4. Part Four: Twilight

Part Four  
TWILIGHT  
  
Chapter I  
  
Ghost had quickly tired of the uneventful life in the infirmary and had taken it upon himself to find out more about the structure of Loamhedge. He had seen very little of the abbey, having first wandered outside and finding the view from the ramparts. This had been during dusk, and now it was twilight; the span of time not truly belonging to day, nor falling under the title of night. The dying sunlight was fading on the distant horizon in the east, and the first glowing stars were faintly shining behind an early rising moon. That, Ghost saw, would not last long. Clouds were gathering in the sky promising a storm. As he watched the small clouds form, something seemed to come over him. He felt small compared to what he could see from his perch on the ramparts.  
Now he was gazing north, his eyes locked on the distant horizon and his mind focused on all that could have been. He despised fate for destroying his life, and he vowed vengeance on the fox that had betrayed him. Thoughts of revenge raced through his mind so fast that he was scarcely aware of some of them, and completely unaware of most. Then, with a suddenness and subtlety that rattled him afterwards, a silence hushed all but one thought in his mind. He was aware of the silence first; as it was abrupt, yet only after he forced his mind to focus on the thought did he hear it. He blamed himself.  
Trent had killed her, but it was he who had told her to go. She warned him about the Foxtribe, yet he had failed to listen. Trent was not to blame for deceiving him, but rather it was his own fault for being blind to the trap that was being set before him. He had promised to lead the Watch, and he had led them to their downfall.  
A paw strayed to where he usually kept his daggers, only to find they were not there. He looked down and sighed. Twilight was gone, the glow on the horizon had faded and died. The night creatures were slowly starting their usual chorus, filling the air with music. His ear twitched as is caught an out of place sound among the harmonies; a faint scraping sound almost like footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the small figure of a mouse coming towards him. It took him a while to recognise the figure as Amethyst. When she saw him, she paused, as if contemplating turning back, and then continued on until her smiling face was clearly visible beneath the moonlight.  
"You found my favourite spot."  
Ghost nodded thoughtfully. "I'll have to remember that. Be warned, thought, that it may become mine as well."  
"You seem sad."  
He nodded, but said nothing.  
"Would you want to tell me why?"  
A deafening silence fell between the two, neither making any sign of breaking it. Ghost took a deep breath and sighed it out.  
"I was supposed to lead the group, and they trusted me. Now they could all very well be dead because I didn't catch on to a fox's game."  
Amethyst nodded and reached into her habit sleeve, producing his journal. "The Abbess told me to give this to you." She handed it to him and her heart skipped a beat when he tossed it over the wall. "You shouldn't punish yourself so much."  
Ghost stared at the black earth below, the journal hidden from view by the shadows. "I killed them."  
"No you didn't." Amethyst was becoming upset, but tried to hide it in her voice. "That fox killed them, not you. If anyone should be punished it would be him and his band." She pointed down in the general area of the journal. "I think you're just hiding from the past because you don't want to face it. I'm going to tell you something, and I hope that it does something for you." She paused for a breath. "Loamhedge had two visitors arrive in the past few days. One was once a proud warrior, surrounded by friends, and ready to fight for whatever was true and just. The other was a slave, beaten by a whip and at the mercy of a cold-hearted slaver. The former has done nothing but mope, and the latter can't wait to deal justice. I would think that both of you would have met by now to discuss the topic, seeing how our last notion was that the slavers were heading this way." She shrugged. "I guess that's what a true warrior would do."  
Ghost glared at her. "You speak of me as a warrior," he shook his head. "I was never more than an assassin. There's a difference. Your bold words don't apply to me." He stood up straight and started walking towards the eastern wall. "I do despise slavers; I don't think there is anything lower in this world. However, I do not think I want to rush off to war either." He brushed past her and vanished into the shadows.  
"Fine then, Ghost." Amethyst darted down the stairs and crossed the courtyard, heading towards the main gate. "Ghost," she called up to him. "Mind if I read that journal of yours?"  
"Go ahead," came the reply. "I just don't want to see it again."  
Amethyst pushed the two gates open just enough for her to squeeze out. A faint light was cast by the moon, which was now covered by a curtain of clouds, making it difficult to see. She trekked along the northern wall until she found the beaten journal and she brushed the cover off as she picked it up. She slowly started her way back to the gates, studying the journal in the dark.  
"Well, what have we here?"  
She froze and instinctively glanced behind her. "Who's there?"  
"Oh, no one of importance. My name is Blythe."  
Amethyst glanced around; it was still too dark to see anything. "Where are you?"  
"Over here."  
She was starting to get nervous. The voice sounded friendly enough, but a small alarm was telling her that running would be the wisest choice.  
"You must be from Loamhedge. What's your name?"  
"Am.... Amethyst. My name is Amethyst."  
"Amethyst, could you help me?"  
She gripped the journal tightly and took a step towards the voice, trying to see who it was. "What do you need?"  
"Oh, nothing much...just you."  
The voice had turned cold with the last two words, and Amethyst turned to run.  
"Not so fast."  
A rope was thrown around her and pulled taught, catching the journal in its coils and pressing it hard against her. She opened her mouth to scream, but a paw clamped over it, keeping her silent. She started to kick and fight, but it was no use. She growled as a gag was tied over her mouth. As suddenly as they sprung on her, the two animals had her and were carrying her off into the forest. One of them pulled the journal from the rope and held it up.  
"Look at this, Blythe, a book. Too bad you can't read."  
Amethyst tried to look towards the second voice, but could only make out the silhouetted outline of a fox. She gulped and felt the fight evaporate in her.  
"You shut your mouth, Trent. Which one of us caught her? I don't think you're in any position to act cheeky towards me."  
Amethyst's heart froze as she heard the name. It suddenly dawned on her that she was in the paws of killers, not just slavers. She heard a thud and the rustling of bushes.  
"Well, no more book. Now you keep quiet and just worry about getting her back to camp. I know someone that would enjoy speaking with her."  
The two chuckled softly as they dragged their prize further into the forest.  
  
Chapter II  
  
Myriad glanced around the camp for what was probably the twentieth time that night. Everything was suddenly happening fast, and her mind was still reeling from the change in pace. After the arrival of the Foxtribe, Scarstripe had ordered a march, which stopped less than a day's travel from the abbey. After that, a meeting had been held between two of the foxes, the leader and some other whelp, and Scarstripe. She was never able to figure out what it had been about because her invitation had been cut, and when she tried to enter the tent a guard had pushed her back roughly. Then, without warning, the two foxes had vanished. Myriad had wanted Mantis to follow, and had sought him out among the horde, only to find that he too was missing. She asked around and quickly found that no beast could tell her his whereabouts. To avoid raising suspicion, she quickly ceased her questioning.  
Now, the camp was a bustling hive of activity. Everything, it seemed, was gearing up towards war. Because she had nothing else to do, Myriad simply kept out of the way, watching the rest of the horde working away while she anxiously waited for Mantis to show up.  
"Having fun, Myriad?"  
She spun around to face Scarstripe and smiled. "Oh, yes, o' course." She raised both eyebrows and cocked her head comically to one side. "Aren't ye?"  
He nodded, his expression cold and calm. "Always. War is such an exciting event."  
She nodded, striking the smile from her face. "Can I be o' service, I am yer advisor."  
Scarstripe chuckled and patted her on the shoulder. For some reason, she could not help but feel slightly uneasy under his gaze.  
"Myriad, my long trusted advisor, I am afraid you have been replaced. We are in a time of war, and I know how much you dislike the process as a whole, so I have moved Trent into your position and title. Sorry."  
Myriad narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "I don't suppose ye had any qualms about makin' that decision, m'lord?"  
"Troubles? Of course I did." Scarstripe kept his voice calm and soothing. "You have been a long time friend and advisor. Replacing you was the hardest thing I ever had to do."  
"Don't waist yer breath, m'lord. Th' consolations fall on deaf ears."  
Scarstripe narrowed his eyes. "You would do well to remain silent."  
"Ye appointed me as yer advisor 'cause I couldn't shut up. Now ye want me t' be silent?" She chuckled and smiled. "Ye always had a way with words, m'lord. I willingly step down. Let Trent deal with yer problems now."  
Scarstripe chuckled. "Glad to see you respect my decision. Now go and get some rest."  
She nodded, glancing about the camp once more in search of Mantis. "Aye, m'lord. Might I also say, as my last bit o' advice t' ye get some rest as well."  
Scarstripe placed a paw on her shoulder. "I will." He watched her turn to walk away. "Oh, before I forget to ask later," he cleared his throat. "Have you seen the new assassin, Darkbane?"  
Myriad turned, yawning and scratching the side of her head. "Nay, but I haven't been keepin' an eye out fer him. Ask Mantis, it's his field."  
"Well, that's a problem, you see. I would ask Mantis, but Mantis is not here. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"  
She shook her head. "I haven't been lookin' fer him either." She yawned again. "If ye'll excuse me, I'm goin' to go sleep, m'lord."  
Scarstripe nodded and watched her vanish into her tent. Once she was gone, he allowed his grin to turn into a light sneer. "If I find out you are conspiring with Mantis, Myriad, I will be sure that it becomes the death of you."  
He grinned and started walking back towards his tent. He would tell her tomorrow that the advisors tent was no longer hers.  
"Scarstripe!"  
The warlord's ears perked up, and he smiled at the Foxtribe commander. "Trent! How went the mission?"  
"Better than we thought. Come, a present awaits you in your tent." Trent grinned slyly and motioned the weasel to follow. "The walls are thick, and I would not assault them directly. The gate, though it will prove formidable, is the weakest point in the wall, and a good battering ram should take care of it with minimal troubles. I would report on the military status, but as you will see, there is none. If all of the abbey dwellers are like this one, we are in luck." Trent bowed and pulled the tent flap back to reveal Amethyst, who had been bound and tossed to the ground. "I present Amethyst, member of Loamhedge Abbey. They don't even know we're coming."  
Scarstripe chuckled. "Good, how very comforting to know." He knelt beside the mousemaid. "Amethyst, such a nice name." He studied her for a moment. "You can replace my otter, who ran off a few days ago. You wouldn't happen to know who I'm talking about, would you?"  
Amethyst glared at him, but said nothing. Instead, she grinned and gave him a look of defiance.  
"You defy me?" He pushed her back and stood. "Trent, I do hope your assumption that all of the abbey mice are like her is wrong. It would be a shame if none of our captives wanted to work as slaves." He nodded to one of his guards, a stout rat with a deep scar running down his face. "Let her rest tonight. If she does not work as a slave tomorrow morning, then she will work as a target for the archers in the afternoon." He grinned at Amethyst and shrugged. "We all serve some purpose here in the camp, whether it be while we live or while we die."  
Scarstripe nodded to Trent and his guards, and they exited the tent, leaving Amethyst alone on the ground. When they had left, Amethyst allowed her shoulders to sag, and she curled up on the ground, whimpering. There was nothing she wanted more than to be back at Loamhedge, among friends, instead of here with a horde full of vermin. She silently cried herself to sleep; wondering what would happen in the morning when the abbey realised she was not there.  
  
Chapter III  
  
Solace tossed the empty haversack to the ground and looked up at her two travel companions, Montel and Lady Flynt.  
"That does 't for th' food, eh wot! Guess we'll have t' forage th' rest o' th' way."  
Montel stared into the fire. "Or, we turn north and follow a trail we know, leading to Salamandastron. I think that is better than trekking across unknown territory without food. It is better to be hungry than it is to be hungry and lost."  
Lady Flynt sucked on a pebble. "Well, if worse come to worse, we just shout very loudly and hope some beast hears."  
Montel chuckled. "That could work." He looked over at Solace. "Don't you think so?"  
Solace's ears were perked up and she shushed the other two with a wave of her paw. "Do y' hear that?"  
Montel shook his head. "There's nothing out there that's going to attack us here." He patted the haft of his axe. "If they do, I'll deal with it."  
A twig cracked, and Lady Flynt glanced at Montel. "Maybe she was right."  
The three stood, Montel resting his axe on his shoulder.  
"Who do y' think 't is?"  
Lady Flynt shook her head. "I don't know, but if it's got food, I'm happy."  
A figure clad in a dark robe stepped into the firelight; paws outstretched to show it meant no harm. The hood was casting shadows on its face, keeping its identity hidden from the trio.  
"Are you the remnants of Eagle Watch?"  
Solace studied the figure. "Aye, we are. Who's askin'?"  
"Promise you will hear me out, first."  
Solace glanced at the other two. "What d'y' say?"  
"Hear him out." Montel lowered the axe, resting it on the ground.  
"I agree with Montel, let's hear him out." Lady Flynt stepped forward. "Before we begin, do you have any food?"  
The robed figure nodded and vanished into the trees. He returned after a short while with a haversack and tossed it to the squirrel.  
"It is not much, and I am not sure if you will enjoy it."  
Lady Flynt started to reach for the sack, only to be stopped by Solace. The hare picked up the sack and studied it.  
"Alright, who are ya?"  
The three watched as the figure reached up and drew his hood back, to reveal who he was. Montel immediately raised his axe and rested it on his shoulder.  
"Call me Mantis."  
Solace dropped the haversack. "Don't bother eathin' it, Lady Flynt. It's probably poisoned." She took a step towards the ermine. "Wot're y' doin' here?"  
"I've been following you. I have news you might be interested in hearing." He pointed at the sack. "And the food is not poisoned. I guarantee that on my honour and life."  
Montel lowered the axe again. "What news could you possibly have that we would want to hear?"  
"Many things, badger. Do you wish to hear it, or shall I leave now?" Mantis looked from one to the other. "Which will it be?"  
"Tell us, you got me curious." Lady Flynt crossed her arms and waited for him to respond.  
Mantis waited until he received a nod from the other two before he spoke again. "Your friend Ghost is alive and living in Loamhedge. The abbey mice treated his wounds, and he now lives within its walls."  
Lady Flynt was on her feet immediately. "He's alive?"  
Solace was still sceptical and shook her head. "How can we trust that what y' said's true?"  
"You do not have to if you do not want to. But I will tell you something else," he paused. "Loamhedge is about to be attacked by a slaving horde. They will need all the help they can if they wish to survive the attack. You can turn and start back now, and maybe arrive before the attack begins, or you can carry on to wherever you were going and never look back again." He raised a paw as Solace started to speak again. "I know that this is true because I am a member in that horde. I tell you this now because not more than two days ago, a band of foxes led by one named Trent allied with our horde. The fox is manipulating our commander, and I can tell that Trent is a cold-blooded killer. I have enslaved others, and killed others, but never in cold blood. It goes against what I stand for."  
"An honourable vermin?" Solace rolled her eyes. "I still don't trust 'im."  
Montel placed a paw on Solace's shoulder. "I do. I've known honourable vermin in my life; another one does not seem entirely unlikely." He opened the haversack and pulled out an apple. "Besides, what would we have to lose by going to Loamhedge?" He took a bite and looked at it. Seeing it was fine, he pulled out a second and tossed it to Lady Flynt. He offered a third to Solace. "Want one?"  
Mantis watched the hare decline the offered food. "I am an assassin, hare. A true assassin does not use poisons to achieve what skill should be used for. The food is safe." He walked over to Montel and took the third apple. He bit into it and swallowed a piece. "If you don't mind, and if you are going towards Loamhedge, I am no longer able to return to my horde. Scarstripe and Trent are both untrusting, and my prolonged absence has no doubt betrayed my conspiring. I would like to journey alongside you three until we reach where my path diverges on its own."  
Montel and Lady Flynt nodded, then turned to Solace to see her response. The hare frowned, but nodded.  
"If th' two o' y' trust 'im, then I trust yer judgement." She walked back to the fire and sat down. "We'll spend th' night here an' pack up tomorrow. I suggest we all get some sleep. It's goin' t' be a long walk back."  
  
Chapter IV  
  
Blackstrike woke early the next morning, yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She did not rise out of her bed for w few minutes, during which she tried to recall that night's dreams. It was to no avail, all had faded into the corners of her mind where they would be forgotten, or remembered and thought to be new. It did not matter; there were other things to do than trying to recall forgotten dreams.  
She got up out of the bed and glanced around the room she shared with Amethyst. The other bed was empty and made, so she figured that her friend was already up and about. With another yawn threatening to rise, Blackstrike shuffled out the door and into the hall. Out of curiosity, she stopped by the infirmary and peeked in. The ferret was sleeping in the far corner. She shrugged and continued towards the main hall. The other early risers were busy making breakfast and setting the tables. The Abbess was among them.  
"Good morrow, Abbess Arum."  
The Abbess looked up and grinned. "Good morrow, Blackstrike. I trust you slept well?"  
"Yes, I did, thank ye. Have ye seen Amethyst?"  
The Abbess shook her head. "No. I thought she was still sleeping. Is she not up in her bed?"  
"No. I just woke up and she wasn't there."  
"Well, she does have the tendency to vanish. Did you see her come in last night?"  
Blackstrike shrugged. "I fell asleep early. She could've come in later. Where'd she go last night?"  
"To talk to Ghost out on the ramparts." The Abbess frowned. "Forgive me for asking this, but, have you seen Ghost?"  
"He's sleepin' in th' infirmary. Ye think he did somethin'?"  
"No, not yet. I doubt it, but..." She shook her head. "No. I wouldn't expect him to do anything. I'll ask him, though, later today."  
Blackstrike glanced in the direction of the infirmary. "I'll take care of it. Ye seem busy enough."  
"Oh, could you do that for me? Thank you so much. Let me know what he says."  
Blackstrike looked towards the doors. "Could she be outside?"  
"Well, the only ways out are through the back door in the kitchen, the infirmary, and here. She usually comes through here to grab some breakfast before going out, and like I said before, I haven't seen her and no one has gone outside yet to my knowledge."  
Blackstrike nodded and walked back towards the infirmary. When she opened the door a crack and peeked in, she was somewhat surprised to see that Ghost was awake and sitting up in his bed. She pushed the door and nodded to the ferret.  
"Good morrow, Ghost. Mind if I ask ye a few questions?"  
Ghost shook his head. "Not at all...Blackstrike is it? I don't believe we were ever formally introduced." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood. "What do you need?"  
"A few answers, nothin' too serious. Would ye care t' take a stroll along th' ramparts while we talk?"  
"No, not at all." He yawned. "Besides, I could use the wakeup call." He grinned and started walking towards the back door of the infirmary. "You've never spoke to me before. Why are you so eager to now?"  
Blackstrike followed him out the door and into the courtyard, which was basking in the glow of the morning sun. "Ye met with Amethyst last night, am I correct?"  
"Yes. I did, last night." He started up the stairs to the ramparts. "I'm still curious, even more so now that you've brought her up."  
"She wasn't in her room this mornin', and no one saw her come in last night, or out this mornin'. Yore th' last one t' see her."  
Ghost stopped in mid-stride and turned around to face the otter. "She's gone?"  
"Did she go anywhere last night?"  
Ghost nodded and ran the rest of the way up the stairs and to the northern wall. "She went to get my journal; I had thrown it down there." He looked down and searched the ground for the book. "It's gone."  
Blackstrike came up alongside him and looked down. "Yore certain she came back?"  
A thought struck Ghost, and his heart skipped a beat. "No." He ran back tot he stairs and took them two at a time. "Who's been outside since last night?"  
Blackstrike ran after him. "No one 'cordin' to th' Abbess."  
"Good!" Ghost sped towards the main gate. "She left the gate open when she left to get the journal. If she came back, then it should...." He slid to a stop in front of the gate and felt his stomach turn. "It's open."  
Blackstrike came up alongside him, panting, and placed a paw on his shoulder. "Don't run like that again, mate." She looked at the gate, which was slightly ajar. "We should get a search party put together. I'll get Arkain, ye go and tell th' Abbess."  
Ghost nodded. "Aye, do that. Could you tell the Abbess, please? I want to check something outside."  
He looked back at her and received a nod. Without a word, he pushed the gate open and walked out into the open ground. It was the first time he had set foot outside the walls of Loamhedge since his arrival, and to do so felt odd to him. He shook it off and made his way around to the base of the northern wall. His eyes darted across the ground, looking for signs of something, anything, that would drop some hint about Amethyst's disappearance. He cut into the surrounding forest, checking for the telltale signs that someone had travelled through recently, but still found nothing. Several minutes passed without any luck, and just when he was about to turn back, he saw it. Resting in the mud, cradled by the gnarled roots of a tree, was the journal. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and looked around for a landmark so he could find the spot again. Leaving the journal as a marker in case he needed it, Ghost jogged back to the abbey.  
Chapter V  
  
Scarstripe paced back and forth in his tent, mentally going through everything that needed doing that day. Trent was going to discuss tactics for overthrowing Loamhedge, and that was probably going to be the highlight of the day. Following that was a check on the new slave, he wanted to see if she would survive to see nightfall or not. Darkbane was on the lookout for Mantis, and under strict orders to report if any sign of the missing assassin turned up. Myriad was set for eviction from her tent, which was going to be turned over to Trent. He grinned; it was going to be an exciting day.  
One of the guards walked through the flap of the tent and saluted. "Comrade Trent Silverblade t' see ye, Cap'n."  
"Send him in." He dismissed the guard with a wave of his paw and watched as the Foxtribe leader silently came into the tent. "Trent, comrade, it is good to see you. We have much to discuss, it seems."  
"We do, Comrade Scarstripe." Trent closed the tent flap behind him. "But first, I think we need to discuss something more immediate."  
Scarstripe paused, intrigued by the fox's quiet manner. "Alright, what is it?"  
"Conspirators. Your former advisor, the ferret, I don't trust her. Darkbane has been watching, as you probably know, and he told me that she meets often with this Mantis character." Trent casually strode over to the map table and looked at the large chart of Loamhedge. "I don't think it would be wise to leave this matter unattended."  
"You are right, Trent. I don't think it would be wise either. However, I have the situation taken care of. The idea of those two conspiring against me has not been a new one, and I am working on finding out just what it is they are up to. Thank you, however, for your concern." He walked over to the map table. "Now, however, I want to speak of war."  
Trent grinned and pointed to the map. "Before I tell you my idea, tell me yours. I can tell you have something in that conniving mind of yours."  
"You know me better than my mother, Trent." Scarstripe pointed at the pile of maps. "I cannot conquer all of these lands. I simply do not have the numbers. What I do have, Trent, is the method. Have you ever seen a forest literally reduced to ash in a week?"  
Trent straightened up and eyed the horde leader. "No, nor have I heard of it happening."  
"Well, it can. I have, and always try to have, a vast amount of lamp oil. It is very useful for its obvious purpose, but I have never used it for that." Scarstripe ran a tongue over his teeth. "What I like to do is fill large pots with the oil, light them on fire, and simply hurl them wherever there is resistance. It is simple and effective. Any beast can stand and fight against another beast, but no beast is truly capable of winning a war against strong fire."  
Trent stared at the weasel in disbelief. "Even I don't use fire, and that is saying a lot. It is a general understanding and point of honour that one does not use fire; not in woodlands and especially not against harmless beasts."  
Scarstripe shook his head. "You don't understand, Comrade, what I am. For one to use fire, one must be a murderous, treacherous, villainous, lying, cold-hearted scumbag." He grinned coldly. "I am not like that; I am worse. Use of fire is not something that will bring me guilt. But come now, I've told you my idea, what's yours?"  
"I think we can play with Ghost."  
"Who?"  
"The ferret in Loamhedge. You are aware that he lost someone very dear to him, right. Well, I believe we can play on that."  
Scarstripe nodded slowly. "I see. You're a bit more creative than I originally gave you credit for. Tell me more."  
Trent grinned and outlined his plan in full detail to the warlord. When he had finished, Scarstripe grinned and chuckled. Giving the fox a pat on the back, he began ushering him towards the tent flap.  
"Trent, you truly are a genius. Go fetch them, one at a time, and bring them here. We'll have that abbey before long, I can taste it."  
  
I  
  
  
I  
  
  



	5. Part Five: Nightfall

Part Five  
Nightfall  
  
Chapter I  
  
Solace rubbed her eyes and forced back a yawn. "I dunnae 'bout th' rest o'y'all, but I'm spent."  
Montel came to a halt and nodded in agreement. "We've been marching all day, I'm used to sleeping at night, Mantis."  
Mantis glanced back at the rest of the group. Solace was leaning against a tree, Lady Flynt against her bow, and Montel was stifling a yawn. "All right. We rest here. New march at daybreak. Sorry if I pushed too hard, I'm used to long marches."  
"Quite alright, chap. Just don't do it too often. I reckon not more'n a half o' day from 'ere."  
Lady Flynt nodded. "Aye. Time fer rest. I ain't first watch." She grinned and found a tree trunk to use as a backrest.  
Montel raised a paw. "I'll take first and get a small fire going. I'm used to late nights as well." He nodded to Mantis. "Being in a horde has its advantages sometimes."  
"Slave?" Mantis asked.  
"For a short while." He looked back at Solace and chuckled. The hare was already fast asleep. "Look at that. Big eater and sleeper. We'll give her last watch, if that's alright with you Flynt."  
The squirrelmaid nodded. "Go ahead. I'll take th' one before her."  
Mantis adjusted his robe and gestured to their dark surroundings. "I have the feeling we might be near my old camp. I would like to find out before we light a fire. No sense attracting attention to ourselves with a stupid mistake."  
Montel nodded. "I'll wait then." He watched the assassin vanish into the night. "You know, he's almost like having Ghost here again."  
"Aye, but he's a little queer. Ghost never acted much like an assassin, Mantis does." Lady Flynt yawned. "Well, guess I won't be stayin' awake 'till supper tonight. I'm exhausted."  
"Well, I'll see you in the morning, then."  
Montel sought out a spot to set up a fire pit. After finding one and setting up a ring of stones to mark it, he stretched out on his back and stared skyward at the stars, picking out constellations and naming them, and even creating a few of his own, in an effort to pass the time while he waited Mantis' return.  
  
Mantis pushed through the bush, trying to find some clue or trace of the Bloodslayers. He knew that they were some place near; he had intentionally tried to lead the group somewhere near the horde's camp. Now he just needed to find them. He made his way to a small patch of grass that had a clear view of the sky and paused to get his bearings. The horde was somewhere close, he knew it; he could feel it in his bones.  
The assassin silently drew the hood of his black robe over his head and trekked onward, following instinct rather than direction. The gamble paid off, and he was rewarded with the sight of a distant watchfire.  
Keeping well in the shadows, he crept towards the camp, making a big circle to avoid the night guard. There was a small break in the ring of watchfires at one end of the camp, which allowed Mantis to step from the trees and through the shadowy bridge where there was no light to reveal his position. He scanned the sleeping inhabitants of the camp for a moment and, not finding what he was looking for, made his way back into the forest.  
  
Chapter II  
  
Myriad shivered slightly and pulled her travel cloak tightly around her. The night breeze was unusually cold and piercing, and she could not risk a fire lest it reveal her position. Immediately to the right of her inadequate camp, a single fire was burning bright through a wall of trees. If she bothered, she could easily make out the three figures huddled around the campfire. Drawing the cloak tighter around her body, she closed her eyes and silently wished the cold away. Tomorrow, if all went as planned, she would not be alone any more.  
  
Ghost stared into the fire as he stoked it.  
"Well," he said, "Tomorrow we try again. I have a feeling about this area."  
Blackstrike had her eyes closed and was on the verge of sleeping. "We've checked these parts all day. What makes ye think we'll find anythin' tomorrow?"  
Arkain looked past the fire at Blackstrike. "We'll find somethin', an' hopefully soon. Ghost, where'd that Foxtribe bloke run after th' fight?"  
Ghost threw the stick he had been using to stoke the fire into the orange flames. "If I knew I would not have been spending my time in Loamhedge. Besides, I don't think Foxtribe's anywhere around here, and Amethyst didn't seem like one to fall for any tricks from that horde."  
Blackstrike opened her eyes and sighed. "She didn't seem like one t' just run off an' vanish, mate. I say we try t' check th' horde camp out."  
Arkain drew a thin dirk and studied the keen blade in the firelight. "Seems dangerous, but Blackstrike could be right."  
"I would have seen something if it were right outside of the gates." Ghost idly traced his paw through some soft dirt. "And I don't think she would have been lured out into the woods."  
"'Ow close were ye watchin', Ghost?" Blackstrike snapped a small twig and threw the pieces into the fire. "I'm worried that she's in trouble an' I'm willin' t' try anythin' to get 'er back safe. She's a friend, an' I don't feel like loosin' anymore friends in this lifetime."  
Ghost stood and brushed himself off. "Well, if you want the camp checked, I'll do it, but not tonight. I'll go tomorrow, and hopefully be back by nightfall with news." He placed a paw on Blackstrike's shoulder. "We'll find her, I promise."  
Arkain picked up a small dirt clot and threw it at Ghost. "Hey, I used t' be in th' reconnaissance team back when I was younger. A black hare's got 'n edge at night."  
"I'll remember that. Now get some rest. I'll take first watch, Arkain can have second, and Blackstrike, you can take the third. Arkain, wake me when you trade off with Blackstrike, I'll leave then."  
"Shore ye want t' do this, mate?"  
Ghost nodded. "Of course I am." He managed a faint grin. "It's my job."  
  
Back in the shadows, unseen by all and watching everything that took place in the two camps, Darkbane chuckled to himself as he settled down for the night. There was no need to set a fire, his black robe kept him warm; and the fire would attract unwanted attention. There was also little need for a watch, as he doubted any of the three scouts from Loamhedge, or Myriad on her own, would bother casing their surroundings at night and alone. His job was simple, and had gone well so far. Trent and Scarstripe must not have realised how easy it was going to be. He grinned and wrapped his robe tightly about him. Everything was going as planned. Only one key needed to turn, and once it had opened its door...a cold glint shone in the assassin's eye.  
  
Chapter III  
  
Amethyst was huddled in the far corner of the camp, well away from any fire and watched relentlessly by cruel eyes. She was shivering, partly from the bitter cold, but primarily from weakness. A pair of ragged tears in the back of her habit was evidence of the day's labour; hours of moving barrels of oil whose purpose she could only guess. She had stumbled twice, and twice a slaver's whip had cracked on her. Now, hungry, cold and tired, she tried desperately to fall asleep.  
Scarstripe had made a point of isolating her from all contact, save his own visits and the two weasels that watched her. She had not spoken to a friendly creature since Ghost on the ramparts, and already, thin wisps of despair were beginning to drift in and cloud her spirits.  
With a heavy sigh, Amethyst lay back on the ground, mindful of the painful lashes on her back, and gazed at the stars above. Her thoughts turned to Loamhedge; to Blackstrike; and all the others who would probably be wondering where she was. Knowing Arkain and Blackstrike, they would probably set up a search party of some sort, but she could not see how a small group of abbey dwellers would stand a chance against a horde. The more she thought about it, the more hopeless things seemed.  
She blinked away a single tear and closed her eyes. In her mind, she imagined her room in the abbey and her warm bed. She imagined herself there, amongst friends and everyone who had ever cared for her, and silently drifted off to sleep, her dreams never leaving home.  
  
Trent paced slowly from wall to wall in Scarstripe's tent. Both of his paws were clasped behind his back and in spite of the tall and proud image he tried to carry, it was obvious he was spent and weary from a full day's work.  
"I still think using fire is a bad way of gaining the abbey."  
Scarstripe sat back in a chair and gave his advisor an inquisitive look. "Oh?"  
"Yes. Think about the consequences. If you send those...firebombs into the building, even though it will eliminate all opposition, it will leave the structure weakened and useless as a stronghold."  
Scarstripe chuckled. "Trent, you must be tired. You seem to have forgotten that we have slaves. We let them repair and rebuild what we destroy and conquer. Besides, if your plan works, then we should have no problems getting in and the use of fire will not be needed."  
Trent had stopped pacing and he had locked his gaze on the striped weasel. "Well, let's hope my plan works then."  
Scarstripe shook his head. "You'd better hope it works, I could care less. If it does not work, I will use mine, and I will soon have you replaced. What would Foxtribe do without a leader?"  
"Appoint a new leader and seek vengeance for their fallen comrade." Trent narrowed his eyes and allowed his right paw to settle on the hilt of his rapier. "But that's not going to happen any time soon, is it?"  
Scarstripe glanced at the rapier, then back at Trent. "Not if you do your job, Comrade. Do it right, and they won't have to." He stood. "You're dismissed for the night."  
Trent bowed and backed out of the tent, leaving the horde leader alone with his thoughts. Hostility had suddenly appeared between them, and it would only lead to one thing: death. A war had started that would never see light of day unless conditions allowed it to.  
He nodded to Blythe and scratched a non-existent itch on the side of his face before he stepped into his tent. The Foxtribe captain glanced around quickly and silently vanished through the flaps after his commander.  
  
Back in his tent, Scarstripe frowned and looked over the crude maps of Loamhedge. He could sense the hostility that had sprung between Trent and himself, and he silently wished he still had a good spy around. Mantis was missing, and Darkbane was on assignment, which meant he would just have to rely on his own cunning and skills. If Trent was going to try anything, he wanted to be ready to retaliate. He chuckled. Covert war was one of his favourite games.  
  
Chapter IV  
  
Ghost was roused from his sleep by a gentle nudge from Arkain. The stars were still glowing overhead, though the moon had already set. Dawn had yet to break over the horizon. The black hare silently pulled him to his feet and nodded a good morning before hopping off. Ghost watched him for a moment and nodded to himself before glancing at Blackstrike. She was standing by the fire, arms clasped at the wrist behind her back as the light from the fire danced about the thoughtful expression on her face. She looked up and nodded to Ghost, solemnity showing in her dark eyes.  
"Luck be with you, Ghost. Last I recall, their camp was to the east of here." She looked back at the fire and lapsed into silence.  
Ghost nodded and managed a slight grin. "I'll be back."  
Blackstrike nodded and remained silent. Ghost, sensing there was nothing more to say, drew his robe about him to fend off the cool morning air and entered the dark forest. Blackstrike glanced behind her, making sure he had gone, before she pulled a worn, weather beaten book from the folds of her Loamhedge habit. She admired the engraved letters 'E' and 'W', which were written in Loamscript. She idly thumbed through the pages before turning back to the first. Her eyes ran over the lines as she read what little she could. Amethyst had tried to teach her the abbey's written language, but she had not been the best pupil. Still, she could understand some of what it said.  
"Ghost, don't let the past kill you." She turned to the last page and pulled a small pencil from her habit.  
  
Myriad had not slept much, and not very well. The lack of fire to fight the cold air had left her shivering most of the night. She was not sure when, but late in the night she had finally drifted into some semblance of what could very well have been sleep. A dream had started to form when it was all shattered. A sharp crack put all of her senses on alert and even started an adrenaline rush. She jumped to her feet and looked around; fearing first that some beast was going to attack her. When nothing of the sort happened, she looked towards the camp she had been watching and felt her heart jump.  
She edged forward to get a better look at the camp, hoping that the ferret was just sleeping somewhere and not truly gone. When she confirmed her fears, she hurriedly looked around for any sign of him. There was a soft rustle of bush and crinkle of leaves to her right, so she followed it, noting that the footsteps were heading north.  
The morning sun was just peaking over the horizon, making it slightly easier to trek through the forest. Moreover, she could now faintly see the outline of Ghost, clad in his dark green robe, slowly making his way over half hidden roots and tangles of branches. With a grim determination, she followed, keeping well out of view and hidden from the other ferret.  
  
Ghost's ear twitched. He had yet to hear or see anything, but instinct was telling him he was being followed. An idea crossed his mind, and he reached down for the reassuring feeling of his daggers, only to find a grim reminder of where he was going. The sheaths were still empty, and served only to remind him of the past he sought to leave behind him. He growled silently at the memories.  
He came to a sudden stop as a thought struck him. Why, if he sought to forget the past, was he trekking back to his old camp? A deafening silence fell over the forest, broken only by his own, steady breathing. The question rang in his mind like a bell, seeking out the single answer he knew existed, but was not willing to admit. He wanted to say the farewell to Celleste that he had been denied.  
The life and energy seemed to drain from him, and his shoulders fell with a heavy sigh. Taking a deep breath to help control his own emotions, he continued towards the old camp. He guessed, based on what surroundings he could remember, that the clearing where the camp had been was not far off. As he was walking, his foot kicked something, and he heard a loud snap. He glanced down and saw the broken shaft of a black arrow, the same he had seen Trent using during the battle against Starbane, confirming his guess that the camp was near.  
Pausing to collect himself, and brace himself for whatever he might find, Ghost pushed through a hedge and found himself looking at four graves, all set side by side and each marked by the weapon that had once belonged to the grave's owner. Ghost hung his head at the sight and fought back a single tear that was threatening to form. After a moment of deep, almost deafening silence, he looked up at the first of the four graves, buried halfway to the hilt as a marker was the longsword that had belonged to Corbin. Ghost knelt at the foot of the grave.  
"Corbin, you served the Watch well. I am sorry it had to end the way it did. Rest easy knowing your troubles are now over, and that your story will be remembered always." He stood and walked to the second grave. "Elflein, I am sorry I was not able to protect your sister, and was unable to keep both of you alive. Forgive me. You were a perfect example of all the Watch stood for. Farewell, I will miss you."  
The last two graves were set adjacent to one another, and tears welled up in his eyes as he saw the shortsword and twin daggers placed together. "Celleste, I owe you the greatest apology of all, and I regret that it comes too late. You were right about Trent, and I refused to listen. By the time I did, it was too late for both of us." He reached out and took the shortsword. "I will avenge the deaths of you and our friends, or die trying. Maybe I will see you shortly."  
Ghost had been able to keep the tears from falling, and he lapsed into a long moment of silence. Thoughts coursed through his mind about the past; how he had met the individual members of Eagle Watch, and the ultimate downfall of the group he had forged and led. He leaned against the hilt of the shortsword and closed his eyes tightly to the pictures in his mind.  
A sudden, soft crack made his ears twitch and his eyes shoot open. During the process of revisiting the past, he had forgotten about the unknown beast following him. Whoever it was had taken great care to remain silent, so he played along and acted as though he had not heard their approach. Soft footfalls drew nearer, and he faintly heard a cloak being moved by the air. In a sudden, swift movement, he turned and swung the sword about, pointing it directly at the intruder's chest. The movement was successful in kicking up a lot of dirt and bringing the beast's advance to a sudden halt.  
"Who are you and why are you here?" Ghost narrowed his eyes as he glared at the figure through the settling dust and dirt.  
The figure had turned away, raising the cloak up to protect the eyes from dust. At Ghost's harsh question, Myriad lowered the cloak and wiped the tears from her eyes.  
"My name's Myriad. I was followin' ye."  
Ghost lowered the sword immediately and stared at her. His first stunned impression was that he was seeing Celleste, but all sense, reinforced by her answer to his questions, had convinced him otherwise.  
"Why are you following me?"  
"I heard from Trent 'bout what happened t' ye. I wanted t' see ye."  
Ghost stood, his anger flaring at the mention of the Foxtribe leader's name. "Where can I find Trent?"  
"Don't waist yer time. He's in with th' leader of a horde. Yer not gonna get t' 'im anytime soon." She dried the damp patches of fur under her eyes and looked down at the four graves. "I'm sorry 'bout what happened t' ye, I truly am."  
Ghost snorted. "Ha, sure." He slid Celleste's shortsword into his belt and knelt to retrieve his daggers.  
"I really am." Myriad knelt beside the graves. "Who were they?"  
"Heroes. Corbin Swiftblade, Elflein, and Celleste."  
Myriad shot him a funny look. "Who was th' fourth?"  
"What do you mean?"  
You only said three names. There are four graves." She pointed to the fourth. "Who was that?"  
Ghost locked his daggers in their sheaths. "Me. Now do me a favour and tell me where I can find Trent."  
"Ye'll die if ye go 'bout it that way."  
Ghost looked down at the graves. "That would solve all my problems."  
Myriad drew herself up and grabbed him by the arm. "Listen t' me."  
Ghost started to pull away, but was shocked by Myriad's strong grip. He looked up at her.  
"Ye don't have t' take yer revenge like that." She released him and pulled her travel cloak tight about her. "I can help."  
"How so?"  
She grinned and locked eyes with him. "I'm a member of th' horde, I could try t' lure 'im out."  
Ghost shook his head. "I can't let you do that."  
"Why not?"  
"I don't want any beast to die because of my fight."  
"What if I told ye it was my fight to."  
The two stared at one another, Myriad grinning coolly and Ghost dead serious.  
"Tell me more," he said at last.  
Myriad's grin grew. "With pleasure."  
  
Chapter V  
  
Montel was roused from his sleep by the morning sun. He slowly opened his eyes and let them focus on an overhanging branch while he listened to the sounds around him. The smells of cakes being cooked over the fire caught his nose and urged him to look around. Solace was crouching by the campfire, focused on her cooking. Lady Flynt was leaning against a tree, talking to Mantis. The ermine, although he was actively participating in the conversation, seemed preoccupied. He caught Montel watching them and grinned.  
"Well, look who decided to join the land of the living. Good morning."  
Montel nodded in response. "Good morning to all of you. Solace, what's cooking?"  
"Blackberry oatcakes. I found a blackberry bush nearby, an' I'm usin' some ingredients brought by our guest."  
Lady Flynt stood and made her way over to the badger. "Mantis says we're near his old horde, but he can get us to Loam'edge by the end of the day."  
Montel pushed himself up. "Well, that's good. The sooner the better." He stretched and made his way over to the fire. "How long until breakfast is ready?"  
"Sooner than it'll take y't' ask again. Here, take'ne." He scooped one of the cakes off of the skillet and tossed it to Montel. "Careful, chap, it's hot."  
Montel had to juggle the cake from paw to paw until it had cooled enough to eat. "Are we ready to go on to Loamhedge?"  
"Aye, at least I am." Solace placed the rest of the cakes on a wooden tray made from peeled bark and started passing them around to the others. "Sooner I'm out o' these woods, th' better. I'm not too partial t' livin' within walkin' distance of a horde."  
Lady Flynt nodded as she bit into a cake. "Mmhhmmm." She swallowed. "I agree. I just want to get back in the company of others. No offence to the three of ya."  
Mantis drew the hood of his robe over his face as he watched the three others. "I will lead you to the gates when you are ready."  
Montel grinned. "I look forward to seeing Ghost, if he's still alive."  
"Oh, I trust he is. Can't kill a Ghost, y'know." Solace grinned and downed one of the cakes in a single gulp. "If y' try, they come back t' haunt ya." She chuckled. "It'll be good t' see 'im again."  
"I bet you'd get along with him, Mantis." Lady Flynt smiled at the ermine. "He was an assassin too."  
Mantis nodded. "I would like to meet him. There are a few things I would like to ask him."  
"Well, you're gonna get yer chance. Come on, as soon as I set eyes on those gates, I'm racin' th' rest o' y' all there." Solace let out a loud whoop. "Lead on Mantis!"  
Mantis beckoned them on, not sharing in the excitement they had. Why would he want to, he did not share anything with them? Even now, he was leading them on to a place he knew he would not fit in. There was nothing for him at Loamhedge, and nothing for him to be excited over. It was as though he was walking into his own death.  
  
Chapter VI  
  
Amethyst woke to the crack of a whip and was forced suddenly out of the pleasant dreams that had comforted her through the night. Her back throbbed and her muscles protested, knowing that the day was only going to be filled with more work. She stood and looked back at the whip-wielding rat.  
"Come on, ain't no work t'day. Boss wants t' see ya." He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and started shoving her towards Scarstripe's tent. "Hurry up, yer slow."  
"Well, I'd go faster if you removed the shackles from my ankles, genius."  
He stopped and threw her to the ground. "Don't be givin' me no smart talk. I ain't ordered t' put up with it. I've got a whip, remember?"  
Amethyst nodded and pushed herself to her feet. "Then lead on."  
He grabbed her by the shoulder again, making sure to dig his nails in to her skin until a faint bloodstain formed on the shoulder of her habit. Amethyst ignored the stinging pain and walked on, as though oblivious to the harsh treatment. When they arrived at the tent, the rat shoved her through the flaps. She stumbled and fell, and when she pushed herself up, she found herself staring at the cold face of Scarstripe.  
"Well, what have we got here?" He offered a paw to her, but she declined.  
"I can get up on my own, thank you."  
He nodded. "Very well. Do you know why you're here?"  
"Yes, a stupid fox jumped me and tied me up. Then some genius rat dragged me to the tent, where I suddenly found myself in front of you."  
Scarstripe glared at her. "I don't like your attitude. That is something you'll have to change."  
Amethyst smiled mockingly. "As you wish, master."  
"It would be in your best interests to remain silent for the time being, if you don't want to see Blackstrike here, dead, any time soon."  
Amethyst stared at him. "I don't believe you could do that."  
Scarstripe chuckled. "Oh, well, believe it or not, but one of my assassins is watching them as we speak. She is with a ferret and a hare, and they are all looking for you. With nothing more than a word sent by my messenger, all of them could be dead by the end of the day." He grinned coldly, enjoying the sudden power he had over her. "Now I want you to do something for me."  
Amethyst was beaten; she knew it. There was nothing else she could do but give in to whatever he wanted. "What could I possibly do that you want me to?"  
"Tell me all about Loamhedge. I want to know every little detail stored in your worthless mind."  
  
Trent sat back in the chair Scarstripe had thoughtfully provided in his tent. Standing by the tent flaps, looking out across the camp, was Blythe. Both foxes were deep in thought, a state that was betrayed by the ominous silence that had fallen between them. Trent sat up and rubbed his eyes wearily, catching Blythe's attention as he did.  
"When do we attack?"  
Blythe idly toyed with the hilt of his dagger. "The time will come when the slaves choose to revolt. We will be able to strike unnoticed. Do you think your decision is a wise one?"  
"Of course, my dear Second. We have clearly overstayed our welcome, and that pitiful weasel is just now deciding I'm too smart. You and I both know all too well how insecure these horde leaders can be."  
"Aye, I remember. Starbane was terrible about getting rid of supposed threats to his command." Blythe grinned and chuckled. "So it is decided then?"  
"Tonight, when they are moving the last loads. Inform the others and instruct them all accordingly. We will leave shortly thereafter." Trent leaned back in his chair. "Besides, I think it is time Foxtribe moved on to new hunting grounds."  
Blythe nodded and stepped out of the tent, leaving Trent alone to brood on his plan. The clever, sometimes seemingly insane leader of Foxtribe had an uncanny way of dealing with potential enemies. One of Trent's favourite games was outsmarting other beasts, especially when it turned to covert espionage. His plan now was to deal one powerful blow that would leave the Bloodslayers crippled, and then fade away into the night. To continue the war afterward, through guerrilla style warfare was going to depend on Trent's mood, and the outcome of the initial attack.  
"No one can outfox a fox." Blythe grinned slightly as he muttered Trent's personal saying on covert warfare.  
He cut through the camp; heading towards the small out of the way corner that had been designated Foxtribe Territory. Scarstripe had intentionally set Trent's tent away from the camp; it did nothing but make the tribe laugh at the weasel's paranoia. Blythe waved and caught the attention of an old, one-eyed fox and longstanding member of the tribe.  
"Khale, I need to discuss something with you." Blythe bowed slightly as the old fox stood and made his way over. "We are running Torch tonight. Ready the tribe and make sure all of them are ready."  
Khale's face remained emotionless and cold. "T'night? Bit soon."  
"Trent thinks it's time we moved on."  
A thin grin spread on Khale's timeworn face. "I couldn't agree more. We'll be ready by nightfall."  
Blythe grinned. "Good. Let's leave the Bloodslayers something to remember us by."  
  
Chapter VII  
  
Ghost leaned back against a tree as he contemplated what Myriad had told him. The other ferret was pacing and glancing occasionally at the four graves. She stopped when Ghost spoke up.  
"So, he does have Amethyst, and he is planning to attack Loamhedge."  
Myriad nodded. "Aye, and he's gonna burn it down."  
He glanced up at her. "Tell me more about those firebombs. How do they work?"  
"Well, th' canisters are opened, an' th' top layer's lit on fire. A catapult is used t' throw th' canister into th' fortress, where it'll explode, sendin' fire everywhere. I've seen 'em used b'fore. They're very deadly."  
"Is there anything or any way to defend against them?"  
Myriad shook her head. "No. Unless ye can keep 'em on th' ground."  
Ghost looked up at her and watched as she knelt by Corbin's grave and examined the longsword.  
"Why are you helping me?"  
She looked over her shoulder at him and stood. "To be honest, I can't say." She waked over to where he was leaning against the tree and stood in front of him. "When I heard what'd happened t' ye, I guess I just viewed ye as a fallen legend."  
"So you're helping me because you feel sorry for me?" Ghost shook his head. "Don't feel sorry for me, I'm just a ghost."  
Ghost pushed past her and started to leave. Myriad quickly grabbed him by the wrist and stopped him.  
"I'm helpin' ye 'cause I think that yer in th' right. Th' Bloodslayers fight 'cause they want blood. Ye fight 'cause ye want justice. Am I right?"  
Ghost nodded and she released him. "I fight for justice, and this time I also fight for revenge. If you are going to help me," He looked back and locked eyes with her. For a fleeting moment, he relived something, which quickly forced him to look away. "If you are going to help me, be careful."  
Myriad smiled softly behind him. "Don't worry 'bout me. I can watch m'own back."  
"Good. Now, if you'd be so kind, I'd like to see the where Trent's hiding."  
"Just follow me." She smiled and motioned him to follow her to the camp.  



	6. Part Six: Midnight

Part Six  
MIDNIGHT  
  
Chapter I  
  
Blackstrike gently stoked the campfire as she fought to keep warm. The day had come and gone with still no sign of Ghost or Amethyst. The two had patiently waited for any news from either. So far, their waiting seemed to be in vain, and as night drew on, and the with the moon now hanging directly overhead, they quickly lost all hopes of hearing from Ghost until tomorrow.  
"I still think he's got himself caught by those killers."  
Blackstrike glared at the hare. "Quit bein' so pessimistic, Arkain. Thoughts like that are th' last thing I want t' hear right now. I think Ghost's fine and he'll be back tomorrow."  
Arkain shook his head and stretched out on the ground. "Well, I'll let y' be as hopeful as y' like. Just tell me one thing."  
"Yes?"  
"Who gets first watch t'night?"  
Blackstrike chuckled and shrugged. "Well, seein' how yore already down for th' night, I guess I'll take it."  
"Clever gel. Have fun, I'm gonna catch up on a little sleep." Arkain gave her a lopsided grin as he closed his eyes. He was soon dozing quietly beside the fire.  
Blackstrike shook her head at the sight and wondered how she would entertain herself for the entire duration of her watch. Not thinking of any ideas, she idly stoked the fire and leaned back against a tree to watch it burn. She was suddenly struck with an intense weariness, and felt her eyes droop. She shook herself back to wakefulness and stared at the fire once more. Something was different about it, but she could not tell what it was. Had she caught herself earlier, she would have realised she was dreaming, and that she had fallen asleep by the fire.  
  
Solace yawned and leaned heavily against a staff she had made from a fallen tree branch. Mantis had been leading them all day, and the forest seemed to be never-ending. Now, still out of sight of the gates of Loamhedge, it seemed as though they would never find the abbey.  
"How much further?" Solace yawned again and tried to shake the sleep away before it claimed her.  
Mantis shook his head and looked back. "Not far. I'm positive it is just nearby here."  
Montel leaned his axe against a tree and stretched. "Well, I'm tired. I'm not sure I'll make it if we go any further."  
Lady Flynt, too tired for words, just nodded and yawned.  
Solace saw her and chuckled. "She took th' words right out o' m'mouth." She rubbed her weary eyelids and sniffed. A scent caught her nose and she sniffed again. "Anyone else catch wind o' this?"  
Mantis frowned and smelled the air. "Fire. I know that smell."  
Montel raised his axe. "Where's it coming from?"  
Solace pointed. "Over there, I think. Should we check it out?"  
"Always worth a try, besides, we're far away enough from my horde that I don't think it's them." Mantis unsheathed a dagger and took a step forward. "All the same, I'll check it out and let you know if it's safe."  
Mantis stepped forward, dagger held ready in case he ran into some scouts from Bloodslayers. The fire was near, but there was no sign of anybeast in the vicinity. Confidant, yet still cautious, Mantis pushed into the clearing.  
Curled up beside the fire, fast asleep, was an all black hare. Leaning against a nearby tree was the otter who he quickly recognised as Blackstrike. The camp looked safe, but there was something nagging him in the back of his mind. Without moving, he scanned the surrounding trees and shadows. Something flashed and caught his eye before it vanished into the darkness. Mantis quickly darted across the clearing and looked for any signs that someone had been there, but found only empty space. Whatever had been there was gone.  
Silently, he crept back towards the rest of his group and called them, still keeping an eye on the sleeping camp. His shout roused the hare, who sat bolt upright upon spotting the assassin, and let out a loud cry. Blackstrike, alerted by the hare's cry, jumped to her feet and looked around for the eminent danger. Upon spotting Mantis, with his dagger drawn, she growled and reached for her own dagger.  
"Stand down, don't attack, he's with us!" Montel charged through the trees and placed himself between Mantis and the two others. "He's a friend."  
"Easy to say if ya don't know 'im." Blackstrike took a step forward. "Do they know who y' are, Mantis?"  
"Y'mean that he's a bally assassin?" Solace jumped into the clearing. "He told us, all about Scarstripe an' th' rest o 'th' horde an' such."  
Lady Flynt was the last to arrive, dragging her bow behind her, too tired to carry it. "Hello all. Can we spend the night here?" She looked at Mantis, then at Blackstrike, who both had their weapons drawn. "Did I miss somethin'?"  
Solace chuckled. "No, not much, find a spot t' sleep. We'll tell y'all 'bout it in th' mornin'."  
Lady Flynt nodded and trudged past everyone. Finding a spot near the fire, she curled up and was soon asleep.  
Arkain nodded to the sleeping squirrel. "Well, guess we ought t' keep things down. Don't want t' wake 'er."  
Solace looked at the black hare. "Hullo. I didn't see y'there. M'name's Solace, from Eagle Watch."  
Blackstrike straightened up and sheathed her dagger. "Eagle Watch?" She shot a glance at Arkain. "Wait'll Ghost gets back, he'd probably like t' see ye all again."  
Montel grinned. "You know Ghost?" He chuckled and shook his head. "Small world. What's he doing out and about lately?"  
Arkain sighed. "One o' our abbey members was captured. He's gone off t' scout th' slaver's camp." He shook his head. "We haven't seen hide nor hair o' him since this mornin'."  
Mantis frowned. "I wonder why we didn't pass him, if we were both going opposite ways. I could have told him easily about your friend. Scarstripe had her take Blackstrike's place as his own personal servant."  
Blackstrike groaned and sat down by the fire. "How're we going t' get her out o' there?"  
Montel crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby tree. "Well, did Ghost say he was coming back?"  
Arkain nodded. "He said he was gonna try t' get back by nightfall, but..." he gestured to the camp. "He's not back yet."  
Solace shrugged and bounded up to the fire, glad to have a source of heat for the first time since what seemed like an eternity ago. "Well, Ghost's a fellow who's got a good head on his neck. He'll be back, an' with a plan too."  
Montel nodded. "Well, I'm going to sleep. Let me know if anything happens, I'll probably sleep through it." He sat back against the tree he had been leaning on and was soon fast asleep.  
Blackstrike yawned. "Wow, guess I dozed off. Arkain, do ye want me t' keep on th' watch?"  
Arkain shook his head. "Nah, I'll take it."  
Mantis glanced around the camp. His presence had been forgotten in the excitement that had risen. He liked it that way, it gave him the feeling of standing alone, which he had grown accustomed to as a result of his trade. Now, however, he was a part of this particular group, and isolating himself from it would not be the wisest course of action. He stepped forward.  
"Blackstrike, I thought I saw something in the camp when I arrived, but when I went to check it out, it was gone. By your leave I would like to scout the area."  
Blackstrike stared at the assassin, not sure whether or not to trust him. "Alright," she said, reluctantly. "Scout the area. Report back t' Arkain."  
Mantis bowed and left. Blackstrike stared after him as sleep started to take hold of her once more. Without warning, she was soon dozing along with the others, leaving Solace and Arkain as the only two awake to watch the camp. Solace gazed into the fire, faintly aware that Arkain was watching her.  
"Y' never fully introduced y'self t' me." She idly tossed a dried leaf into the fire.  
Arkain chuckled. "Forgive me, m'name's Arkain, from Loamhedge away yonder."  
Solace looked over at him, smiling. "Nice t' meet y', Arkain."  
"An' a pleasure t' meet y' as well, Solace." He sat down by the fire. "Care t' share th' watch?"  
"For as long as I can. I might doze off, halfway through it, though."  
The two shared a smile as the camp fell under the spell of silence.  
  
  
  
  
Chapter II  
  
Trent stood under a tree, hidden by the dark cloak he wore, which blended in with the night's shadows. Though he could not see them, the rest of the Foxtribe was patiently waiting for his order. With a suddenness that had caught Trent off guard, Scarstripe ordered a morning advance on Loamhedge, forcing operation Torch to run tonight, or never.  
"Blythe, are you ready?"  
"Always." Came the whispered reply.  
"Remember, ring around the cart, save two barrels.' Trent adjusted the cloak he was wearing and stepped towards the cart laden with the firebombs. He reached out and stroked one of the large clay jars. "We're going to have a party tonight." He raised a paw and gave the rest of Foxtribe a wave. Torch was now underway.  
From the dark shadows of the wood, the entire tribe appeared and moved toward the cart. Four set about removing the two jars that were to be set aside, while others discussed in silence the plan that would make Torch an event to remember. Trent, Khale, and two other young foxes gathered by the gap that had been left by the two removed jars. Trent placed a paw on the old fox's shoulder.  
"Khale, are you ready?"  
Khale grinned. "Of course. You just keep to your side of it, and everything will be fine. I was outsmarting vermin and woodlanders long before you even saw light of day." He patted a thin, long bladed dagger that was sheathed at his side. "I enjoy seeing if my wits are what they used to be."  
Khale climbed up into the wagon and shuffled two jars from the centre of the wagon out to the edge, filling the empty space and giving the illusion that the wagon was still full. With a wave to his comrades, he ducked out of view, and a tarp was thrown over the jars. A swift wave to the rest of Foxtribe saw them vanish without a trace. Trent nodded to the two foxes at his side, and they started leading the wagon towards the store tent where the rest of the barrels were kept. The wagon rattled and bounced along until a curious weasel stopped them.  
"Where're ye goin' whi'this?"  
Trent stepped forward. "Orders from Scarstripe. Since we are moving out tomorrow to attack Loamhedge, he wanted the war wagon fully loaded and ready."  
The weasel recognised Trent and his authority, but was still suspicious about the wagon. "Why's th' wagon covered? Ye hidin' summthin'?"  
Trent grinned slyly. "You're a smart one. The wagon is covered to hide the firebombs. We wouldn't want the mice at Loamhedge to see our strongest weapon before it is used. They might think of a way to defend against it."  
The weasel drew up a side of the heavy canvas and nodded, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied that everything was fine, he grinned at the foxes. "Ahright. Can't be too careful, y'know. Spies ev'rywhere."  
"You are doing a superb job. Keep it up. Scarstripe will hear of your dedication from me." He motioned his foxes and the wagon onward, giving the weasel a brisk salute. "Carry on as you were, soldier."  
The weasel saluted back, beaming with pride.  
  
Once the wagon was safely inside the tent, and they were out of view, the four foxes shared in a light laugh.  
"You should have promoted him on the spot, Trent." Khale pulled the canvas back and stood, leaning on the barrels. "It would have made his day."  
Trent chuckled and winked at him. "Some day, Cyclops, I might think like you, and then I will be complete. Is everything in order?"  
A thin, cruel grin formed on Khale's features, and he nodded slowly. "I'll start the party, you can keep it going once I am clear."  
"Good luck, comrade." Trent nodded to the other two. "Lets go get ready. Come on."  
Khale watched them leave the tent before he jumped out of the wagon. One by one, all of the jars in the tent had holes drilled into them by his dagger, their contents left to soak into the dirt ground. One jar, Khale left unmarred, and worked at spreading the oil along the base of the tent. Once everything was in place and to his liking, he stepped out of the tent and waved down a nearby weasel.  
"Ho there, lad. Care to give me a hand?"  
"What ye need?" The weasel ambled over, gripping a spear tightly in one paw. "An' where're th' other two?"  
"They left to fetch something. I need a hand, lad. My old eye is playing a few tricks on me, and telling me that somebeast is moving about in the tent. Mind bringing a torch and giving me a light?"  
The weasel hesitantly walked over to a watchfire and prepared a torch. "I don't remember seein' ye wi'th' others."  
Khale chuckled. "Well, you know us foxes, we all look the same. That light ready yet?"  
"Jus' a moment." The weasel held the torch aloft. "Why ye be wantin' fire in there anyway? Ye know that's full o' those firebombs."  
"I'll take my chances. Come on now, bring that torch and help me look."  
The weasel shook his head, annoyed, but stepped through the flaps and into the tent. Khale closed his eyes as a black arrow breezed past him. There was a soft cry from inside the tent as the weasel was struck in the back, and the torch fell to the oil dampened ground.  
Khale's artful skill at lining the tent with oil worked like a charm. The flames spread to the oil soaked base, forming a wall of fire that would hamper any efforts to enter the tent. Before long, the tent was a raging bonfire in the middle of the camp. Without a word, Khale slipped away from the scene, heading for the outlying forest and his fellow comrades in Foxtribe.  
  
Scarstripe hissed softly as he heard the commotion outside his tent. Something had happened, he could tell. Something so devastating that his own troops feared informing him. He pushed himself out of his chair and crossed to the flaps of his tent, passing the mousemaid who was sleeping, curled up in one corner of the tent. With a growl, he violently tore back the tent flap, and his eyes immediately locked onto the towering inferno in the centre of his camp. His eyes narrowed until they were only dark slits, and he ran his tongue over his teeth.  
"Trent, this means war."  
Letting the flap fall back into place, he stormed to his desk and shoved the maps and charts of Loamhedge aside. He had a new enemy, and nothing was going to keep him from striking back. The Bloodslayers could practise their swordplay on the Foxtribe, and bolster their moral with a victory. Loamhedge could wait. After all, the abbey was not in any danger of leaving.  
  
Chapter III  
  
Ghost awoke to the dawn, the morning sun filtering down through the trees to strike the small camp. Myriad was already awake and stirring the ashes of the burnt out campfire. When she heard him, she nodded.  
"Good mornin'. Sleep well?"  
Ghost grumbled as he sat up. "I was supposed to be back at my camp last night."  
"Well, look at th' bright side: we know where yer mouse friend is."  
Ghost fell back to the ground, exhausted from the long hike. The trip to the Bloodslayer's campsite had been longer than anticipated, and the overnight stop had become required when both of them were too tired to move on.  
"Well, I just hope Blackstrike and Arkain don't wander off to look for me."  
Myriad stopped stirring the dead ashes and walked over to Ghost. "Come on, now. Quit lyin' about an' get up. We'll be back by noon time." She offered a paw to pull him to his feet.  
Ghost accepted the offered paw and was soon standing unsteadily on his feet. "Alright, lets go. I'm anxious to get back." He glanced over his shoulder.  
"She'll be alright, Ghost. Scarstripe's not too keen on losin' his help." Myriad motioned him to move on. "We've got places t' be, lets get goin'."  
Ghost nodded, though her comment did nothing to assuage the fears and worry he had for Amethyst's condition. He led on in silence, not fully paying attention to his surroundings. He was not aware of his state of mind until Myriad cleared her throat and caught his attention. He was immediately pulled from his distracted state.  
"Are ye even watchin' where yer goin'?"  
Ghost nodded, glancing about to make sure he had not missed something. "Of course. Why?"  
"Because, lest m'nose is mistakin' me, there's fire off that way." She pointed towards the unmistakable scent of burning wood.  
"Oh." Ghost stared absently in the direction of the smell. "Well, I was preoccupied. Sorry. Thanks for letting me know."  
Myriad gave him a smug smile. "Well, least I could do. Beats wanderin' aimlessly through th' forest."  
"For once, I couldn't agree with you more." He pushed through the branches and bush and started for the fire. "Come on, then. Maybe we went further last night than we're giving ourselves credit for."  
"Why do ye think they like ferrets as scouts?" Myriad chuckled and followed him. "I knew one that claimed he could scout all o' Mossflower inside a week."  
Ghost rolled his eyes. "I'd like to meet him."  
"Good luck. He vanished durin' a scoutin' mission." Myriad laughed and jogged up alongside him. "Tell me 'bout th' abbey. Is it all that nice?"  
Ghost thought for a moment. "For the most part, yes. I never got used to it, though. The beasts are nice, and are focused on the wellbeing of others. It was just hard for me to adjust, coming out of losing my friends and all."  
Myriad grinned. "Well, y've got me t' keep ye company, now, if that's any consolation."  
"I'm sure it is." He returned her grin.  
"Well, ye don't know me, then." Myriad chuckled and threw her arm around his shoulders. "F'ever."  
The grin suddenly faded from Ghost's face and his mood turned cold. He stopped walking and stared forward at the ground. Myriad suddenly withdrew her arm; afraid she had done something wrong.  
"Sorry, somethin' I did?"  
Ghost shook his head. "No."  
Myriad thought he was going to say something more, but he remained silent. In the span of a few moments, he had gone from grinning at a joke, to silent and almost hostile. Her mood shifted with his, and she distanced herself slightly from the withdrawn ferret. They moved on towards the fire in silence.  
  
Lady Flynt yawned as she stoked the fire back to life, all the while complaining to an unsympathetic Montel about lack of sleep. The badger listened, half interested in what she had to say, and more focused on the day at hand.  
"I'd bet I only slept four hours last night, not nearly 'nough after that long hike."  
Montel nodded. "I wonder where Mantis went. He's not back yet." He shook his head. "No sense worrying about him, I'm guessing he can take care of himself."  
"An' just look at these bags under m'eyes! I could store a day's worth of water in them."  
"How far do you reckon it to Loamhedge from here?"  
Lady Flynt shoved him. "Are you even listenin' t' me? Cold-hearted brute." She yawned and stuck her tongue out at him.  
Montel acted as though he had not noticed, and fought back a grin. "Maybe we should wake the others. It's about time for breakfast."  
"You're incorrigible."  
"So I am, but at least I can get by on four hours of sleep." He grinned and stood up. "Come on, everybody, time to greet the new day."  
His call roused the rest of the camp, and amidst the morning yawns plans were discussed for breakfast. A heated debate took place between Solace and Arkain, Solace wanting apple oatcakes and Arkain insisting on red currant scones. The argument was put to rest by Blackstrike, who claimed both were worth making. Satisfied, both hares grinned at each other and sat back, waiting for breakfast to be served. Montel and Lady Flynt rolled their eyes while Blackstrike set about heating the fire.  
"Blackstrike, how far is it to Loamhedge from here?"  
Blackstrike answered Montel without looking up from her task. "Not far. Ye could make it inside of a day."  
"Here's a question," Solace started. "How long till Ghost shows up?"  
"Can't answer that'ne, I'm afraid. Th' chap runs on his own time. He never told us when he'd get back." Arkain nudged Solace only to receive a shove back. "Y' can't treat a fellow hare like that!" He shoved her back.  
"I'll do whatever I well please t', y' snivelin' scone scoffer." She shoved him back, sending him sprawling on the ground.  
Amidst the laughter of the rest of the group, Arkain jumped to his feet and tackled Solace. The two wrestled until Solace had the black hare pinned on the ground. She grinned and laughed.  
"Ha! Bet y' didn't know who y' were messin' with."  
"Yes, Arkain. Seems you underestimated our Long Patrol hare."  
All eyes turned, stunned into silence by the new voice. Solace, Montel, and Lady Flynt were too shocked to move. Ghost stood on the edge of the camp, leaning against a tree with an amused look on his face. With him were Mantis and Myriad. Mantis stepped forward to make the almost unneeded introductions.  
"I found these two wandering towards our camp. Everyone here knows Ghost, it seems, and on my right is Myriad." He looked back at the two ferrets. "Seems we arrived in time for the party."  
Blackstrike raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And just what party would that be?"  
Ghost, still leaning against the tree, grinned at the remaining members of Eagle Watch. "A reunion. Come, let's get back to Loamhedge, there are a few things I need to discuss with everyone."  
  
Chapter IV  
  
Darkbane almost panicked at the scene before him. Unease had set in when he could find no trace of Myriad or Ghost the morning before, and apprehension gripped him upon the arrival of Mantis and the others. Now, with Ghost and Myriad reappearing, together, he was behind on his job of watching the two ferrets. In the time that had passed, any amount of information could have been exchanged between them, and if anything vital was shared, Darkbane's head was on the executioner's block.  
Out of all of the arrivals, it was Mantis' that frightened him the most. The assassin was never a part of the plan that Trent had so carefully laid out, and Scarstripe had never informed him that Mantis would even be in the area. A vague suspicion came over him, and he wondered if Scarstripe and Trent had sent Mantis in as backup. The thought made him growl to himself.  
"Mantis, by th' end o' this assignment, only one o' us is returnin' back t' Scarstripe alive. Mark m' words."  
Darkbane adjusted his black robe and watched the group strike the camp. He would, of course, follow them as far as he could, but he would need to exercise extreme caution. Two of the beasts were highly skilled assassins, and, assuming neither knew of his presence, both would be wise to his actions if they caught wind of him. It was a high risk he would have to take if he wished to gain favour with his commander; a risk he accepted without question.  
  
Scarstripe sat in his chair at his chart table, glaring at his captains who were gathered inside his tent. The air was thick with tension, and stuffy from numbers, as the tent was holding more than it had been meant to accommodate. Only one captain was missing, Trent; his presence was no longer desired by the weasel commander.  
Huddled in a far corner, out of the way and unnoticed by the rest, was Amethyst. She busied herself with nothing, trying to appear inconspicuous, lest she attract the unwanted attention of the easily angered Scarstripe. The night before, she had narrowly averted a beating simply because of his rage at Trent's betrayal. With a quick and cautious mind, she talked him down until his mind was no longer blinded by his rage. He wasted no time in hatching a plan, and even gave her a rough outline of what he planned on doing.  
"I trust you all know about the Foxtribe's sudden and unwarranted betrayal, so I will spare you the details. What I will inform you of is a sudden change in our plans. Foxtribe is now our enemy, and while they share the woods, we cannot think of controlling them from our future stronghold. We are now at war with the villainous scum; a war that can only be won by the complete, immediate, and utter annihilation of the Foxtribe and its traitorous leader. That fox thought he could win one over on me, but he never had the misfortune of dealing with me before now. My orders are simple for now and they are to kill any fox on sight, no exceptions will be made. A group of our finest will be put together to hunt the tribe down and kill all save their leader, who I want brought before me to be dealt with. Captains and comrades in arms, I want you to select the group. Two score of the best hunters we have. Is that understood?"  
There was a chorus of nods and the captains were dismissed. Scarstripe smiled from his seat at Amethyst.  
"What think you about this sudden, new development, mousemaid?"  
Amethyst eyed him coldly. "The sooner you die, the better."  
Scarstripe stared at her, a pensive look on his face. Oddly enough, he did not turn on her in anger. Instead, he stood and walked over to her. Giving her a deceptively warm smile and pat on the head, he chuckled. "You will soon learn to respect me, and you might even find yourself liking me."  
"Blackstrike never did," she retorted.  
"Ah, but Blackstrike will die, and soon." He grinned coldly at her.  
Amethyst stared at him in disbelief. Had she not been consciously aware of her chains, she would have struck out at him. Knowing that such an attempt was futile, however, she bowed her head submissively. "Of course, sire."  
"That's better. See you are already getting used to it. Keep it up."  
Scarstripe chuckled and walked back to the chart table, where he busied himself with a large map of the surrounding area. The map was inaccurate, but it showed enough of the primary details to be reliable. He drew a dagger and pinned the map to the table, driving the blade where Loamhedge was marked on the map.  
"Rest easy, mousemaid. If all goes as planned, you will be sleeping in your old home, and my new stronghold."  
  
Chapter V  
  
Trent was enjoying himself, and basking in both the morning sun and Foxtribe's recent victory. All around him, his comrades were gathered and shouting jovially about the daring, almost heroic efforts put forth by Khale. The older fox just nodded, winked his one eye, and insisted that it was nothing more than seasons of experience in the field. This only caused another round of cheers and jokes.  
Trent sat back and let the rest carry on. He was content to watch and plan their next move. He had no doubts that Scarstripe would now wage war on his Tribe, and if they were not careful, trouble would catch them napping. The Bloodslayers were skilled and deadly, and their command was anything but trivial. Nonetheless, Trent still held true to his old saying. No one could outfox a fox, and the game was in his favour in more than one way. Ever since Scarstripe had allowed him to give a few commands, he had exercised his own plans and cunning strategies. Ghost, who had slipped the Foxtribe's blades a while back, was now in the process of being eliminated, and after dealing a devastating blow to the Bloodslayers, Foxtribe was ready to pick off the horde at will.  
Trent glanced at the two firebombs he had stolen during operation Torch. In spite of his unwillingness to use fire, he realised the potential of the two jars, and intended to use them to their fullest. Plans had already crossed his mind, and now he just needed to sort them out and chose the best.  
"Trent, come on and join in!"  
The invitation had pulled Trent from his train of thought. With a shrug, he jumped up and walked towards the group. "Alright, what's on for entertainment?"  
"It was my choice, lad." Khale smiled mischievously at his commander. "I chose you."  
Trent laughed and shook his head. "Well, you'd best cover your ears then. I'm not much for entertaining."  
"Sure you are, lad," Khale said. "I've known you since you were a little whelp. I know what you can and can't do."  
He leaned over and whispered something into Trent's ear. The younger fox stood up straight and glared at Khale after hearing what it was. He shook his head resolutely.  
"I'm not going to do that."  
"Why not?" Khale shoved him, challenging him to fulfil the request. "I'll bet you're too much of a coward to."  
Trent hung his head and grumbled something to himself. "Alright," he said at last. "I've got a little something, and since it was our dear fiend, Khale, who requested it, I'll do it."  
There was a round of murmuring and chuckles as Trent drew his rapier and leaned against it, digging its tip into the ground for support. He hesitated momentarily and took in a deep breath before starting his song.  
  
"Ne'er afore as I ever seen,  
Foxes th' likes o' this afore.  
All o' them wi'th' red coats sheen,  
An' eyes like th' clouds in a deadly storm."  
This was said by a corsair rat,  
Who chanced to tangle with the lively crew,  
Of the Foxtribe that roams o'er hill and flat,  
Feared by squirrel, weasel, stoat and shrew.  
"They wandered by night, an' travelled by day,  
Till our unfortunate camp they found.  
Now we're without our dear ol' leader,  
An' th' entire crew's livin' underground."  
  
There was roaring laughter as Trent bowed, his song complete. One of the younger foxes came in dressed as a corsair and, in a melodramatic fashion, challenged Trent to a duel with a fallen branch as his weapon. Trent accepted, raising his rapier to his brow in salute. The two sparred until the branch had broken, and Trent had the fox pinned to the ground. The tribe cheered him on, and he drove the rapier through the ground near the fox's stomach. The fox made a show of over exaggerated death throes as Trent bowed to the loud cheering and laughter. When the noise had settled down some, he pulled the younger fox to his feet and retrieved his rapier.  
"My Foxtribe and dearest comrades, lets make our song and show be foretellers of the coming victory against Scarstripe. Should that cowardly weasel show his worthless snout around here, we'll be ready. Are you with me?"  
The band of foxes cheered loudly and raised their blades skyward. They were Foxtribe, and nothing could stop them.  



	7. Part Seven: Daybreak

Part Seven  
DAYBREAK  
  
Chapter I  
  
Ghost sighed heavily as he leaned against the parapet's ledge and gazed northward at the forest below. The sun was just rising in the east, and brought with it was a sense of a new beginning. Old friends were reunited, and new friends gained, and for once, since the fall of the Eagle Watch, Ghost felt at peace and eager to look beyond tomorrow.  
"Ghost, thought I'd find ye up here."  
Ghost smiled at the otter and nodded once. "I enjoy the view from here. How goes, Blackstrike?"  
"All's well with me." She returned the smile and leaned up against the parapet next to Ghost. "Solace an' Lady Flynt are down in th' kitchen helpin' wi'th' cleanup. Her an' Arkain promised not t' touch any more food."  
"Don't believe them for a second. They'll tuck away anything they deem edible." Ghost chuckled. "What about Mantis and Myriad?"  
"Myriad's sleepin' in th' guest dormit'ry, Mantis is in th' archives chamber. Never thought a vermin would take interest in th' ol' lit'rature."  
Ghost nodded and shifted his gaze westward. "You know, this is where I was standing the night Amethyst disappeared. She went down to get my journal after I threw it from the wall."  
Blackstrike raised an eyebrow. "When was th' last time ye read or wrote in that, by th' way?"  
There was a moment of silence as Ghost frowned and shook his head. "I haven't touched it since I first arrived here."  
Blackstrike produced the journal from the sleeve of her habit and set it down in front of him. "Ye should read what ye write. It's good t' have memories."  
Ghost stared at the weather and timeworn book. "The past belongs in the past."  
"I'm not tellin' ye' t' dwell or live in th' past, just t' remember it. Once ye lose a memory, it's gone forever." She frowned and opened the journal to the first page. "At least find out what that says."  
"It's Loamscript. I don't read it."  
"We're in Loamhedge, Ghost. Find someone t' teach ye." She turned to walk away. "It'll be worth it, trust me."  
Ghost picked up the journal and thumbed through it. "What did you write in it?" He came to the last page with writing on it.  
"Words t' live by, Ghost. They kept me alive as a slave, an' they can do plenty for anybeast who heeds 'em." Blackstrike stopped and turned back to face him. "Read 'em to me."  
Ghost stared numbly at the single line that was scrawled across the otherwise blank page. "Never..." He paused for a breath and started again. "Never give up hope that an ember can turn into a spark; the spark into a fire; the fire into a blaze, and rekindled will be the spirit you believed was dead."  
Blackstrike nodded and started to walk off again. "Jus' somethin' t' think about."  
"Blackstrike,"  
The otter turned to face him again. "Yes?"  
There was an awkward silence as Ghost closed the journal. "What was the final say on Amethyst?"  
"Mantis said that when Myriad's awake, they'll talk with Arkain an' think up somethin' of a plan. It might help if yore there too."  
Ghost nodded. "Thank you."  
Blackstrike tapped the side of her head. "Think about it, Ghost, an' read what's been written for ye."  
Ghost watched her leave and then looked out across the forest again. In the distance, a solitary bird glided effortlessly over the trees, circling and diving in the air, probably amusing a potential nesting mate with acrobatic skill. He followed the flight in silence, idly tapping the cover of his journal with a single claw. Ghost was so lost in the silence, that he failed to notice Myriad approach him from behind.  
"Mind if I join?"  
Ghost was startled out of his reverie and nodded. "Of course...you startled me."  
"Sorry 'bout that. Didn't mean to." She leaned against the parapets and looked out at the forest below. "What're ye thinkin' of?"  
"Things. Whatever chances to cross my mind." He tucked the journal into the pocket of his robe. "I thought you were sleeping."  
"I was, but ye can't sleep th' entire day away." Myriad grinned and shoved him lightly. "Others, though, need t' sleep once'n a while. Ye can't stay on yer feet all th' time."  
Ghost managed a faint grin and nodded, his gaze resting on the ground in front of him. "Of course not. I plan to sleep soon enough. First, though, we need you and Mantis to help us discuss our friend, Amethyst."  
"I'm barring ye form th' meetin' 'til ye get some rest. I'll talk t' th' others, an' they'll side with me." She took him by the arm. "Come on, say goodbye t' th' view."  
Ghost yawned and was suddenly aware of how tired he was. He had not enjoyed a good rest in a while, and now, the thought of sleep had only served to make him drowsy. With a slight shrug, he allowed Myriad to pull him towards the door.  
  
Chapter II  
  
Trent stood motionless, one eye closed while the other sighted down the black shaft of his arrow. Both in range and in sight, a single rat, cutlass drawn, made his way through the trees, stopping every few steps to search for the trail left by Foxtribe. At his side, with his bow drawn and ready as well, Blythe followed the progress of a second tracker, a weasel, who was following a short distance behind and to the side of the rat.  
"Where are the others, do you think?" Trent whispered to his comrade.  
"Spread out, following a search grid. I'd venture ten to fifteen total." Blythe gritted his teeth. "The weasel's getting close."  
Trent nodded. "Three count; release. One, two, three."  
The two arrows streaked silently towards their victims, and both trackers fell to the ground, dead. Blythe darted to the weasel and made a quick check before moving on to the rat. He gave a wave, confirming both were dead, and started digging the shallow grave. Trent moved over and gave the rat a kick.  
"They moved faster than I thought they would. The rest of the tribe is in hiding?"  
Blythe nodded. "They're holed up in that rabbit den. Khale's guarding."  
"Good." Trent relieved the rat of his cutlass and studied the blade. "I've seen better come out of woodlander forges. Still, it will serve its purpose well. You wager to guess around thirteen left?"  
"Any more, and I'd call that Scarstripe a fool. No tracking party works well with too many." Blythe grinned as he kicked the rat's body into the small ditch he had dug and kicked the dirt over it. "We'll take care of them, though. Ain't no beast better at stalking than us."  
Trent glanced back at the weasel. "Don't forget to bury that one as well. I have to return to the den and fine tune the plan I have. Scout onward for the rest of the trackers, but do not engage. Return with your findings as soon as you can."  
The Foxtribe leader walked away, still studying the cutlass. He paused at the weasel's body and stooped down to pick up the ill-fated creature's rapier. Then, without a sound, he vanished into the forest, leaving Blythe to his job.  
Blythe chuckled as he watched his leader leave. "Fine tune a plan...heh." He kicked the last of the dirt onto the rat's grave and started digging. "How are ya, weasel? Looks like you need some rest." He gave the body a kick. "Don't worry, I'll have you put away soon enough."  
His thoughts were interrupted as an arrow embedded itself in the ground in front of him. He stared at the quivering shaft for a moment before letting out a low growl.  
"Who's there?'  
"No one of consequence, fox. Just know that you're our bait. We won't kill you, but we can see to it you know what true pain feels like if you give us a hard time."  
Like ghosts, two stoats appeared at his side, one carrying a rope, the other a drawn dirk. Blythe frowned and shook his head.  
"You are not seriously considerin' tying me up, are you?" Blythe chuckled and offered his paws to be bound. "You know, you can't tie up a fox."  
One of the stoats chuckled as he looped the rope into a noose. "We're not tyin' yer paws."  
A sly grin crossed Blythe's face as he realised their mistake first. "That's too bad."  
A dagger flashed from its sheath, and one of the two stoats fell dead. The second hissed and attacked, drawing a rapier and slashing down at Blythe's back. The fox fell forward and hit the ground with a grunt.  
"Now, fox, you will pay." The stoat raised the blade.  
  
Trent was running a paw over the rough edge of the cutlass when he heard the twig snap. Pressing himself against a tree and gripping the cutlass in case he needed it, he scanned the surrounding forest for any sign of a tracker. Something, almost like a whisper, caught his ear behind him, and he became aware that something was moving towards him. Trusting his instinct, he tightened his grip on the cutlass and readied to attack.  
"Drop th' blade an; I might let ye live till t'morrow."  
A low growl made its way up Trent's throat, and he looked again in vain for whoever it was as he set the cutlass on the ground.  
"Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to, might I ask?"  
"None o' yer concern, fox," the voice answered.  
The voice was close, Trent could tell, but where still remained a mystery to him. Something in the back of his mind told him that things were not right, and to use caution until he found out more.  
"I'm going to set my rapiers on the ground too, just don't take it as an attempt to attack."  
The reply was short and sharp. "Do it then."  
Trent drew his rapiers and set them next to the cutlass. He then pulled his cape around him, hiding his dagger from view.  
"Good. Now step away from th' tree. Ye must be somebeast important, Scarstripe wants ye alive."  
"Alive? I guess that means you can't kill me then." Trent took a few steps away from the tree and tried once more to locate the tracker. "Just out of curiosity...where are you?"  
"I'm right where I ant t' be, an' don't think I can't or won't kill ye. Do anythin' I don't like, an' I'll stick an arrow in yer back an' answer t' Scarstripe later."  
Trent rolled his eyes and caught a glimpse of something in a tree over his head. An idea entered his mind, and he decided to play on a hunch. "You are going to have to come down and escort me, you know."  
"I'm fine up here, thank ye. I'll tell ye where t' go, an' ye'll do what I say."  
A faint grin spread on Trent's face and he scanned his surroundings for proper cover. He had no doubts that he was fast enough to run, so long as it was to a nearby spot where he would be safe from the arrow that was certain to come. He spotted a half-hidden log, but it seemed too far away to be of much help. After his search, though, the log was the only thing that offered the cover he needed. In an effort to close the gap, he took a few steps away from the tree and in the direction of the log.  
"So, where are we going?"  
"First, yer gonna turn around an' start in th' opposite direction. Camp's not that way."  
"Aye you serious? I wanted to go get some travelling supplies before we started."  
"Don't get smart with me, fox."  
"Sorry, it just comes naturally to me." Trent changed his plan and started walking in the direction he was told to. "How long is this going to take."  
"As long as ye want."  
"Good."  
Trent broke into a run and circled around the tree. There was rustling in the leaves above him, and he was able to guess which side of the tree would still offer safety. All he could do was keep the thick trunk between him and the archer, and it would give him time to think. Until an idea came, or, at worse, he was outsmarted, it would be a stand off.  
  
Chapter III  
  
Amethyst was roused from a fitful sleep by sunlight streaming in through the tent flap, and the dark shadow of Scarstripe falling over her. She opened her eyes slowly and rubbed them until they were able to focus on his grim face.  
"Slept well, I take it?"  
"Hardly," Amethyst pushed herself up into a sitting position and yawned. "Floor's too rough to be used as a bed."  
"You will learn to make do. In time, it will not matter where you sleep." He gave her an unsympathetic grin and moved to his desk. "Today I will let you rest. I was going to have you work, but things happen, and I've since changed my mind. I am going to ask you a few questions, and you are going to answer."  
"If it's about Loamhedge, I'm not answering." Amethyst grinned. "But otherwise, I'll be happy to answer."  
"Well, I'm not going to ask about Loamhedge." Scarstripe rubbed his paws together. "I am going to ask about some property of mine that is missing, though."  
Amethyst shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I haven't seen anyone come through here but you."  
"I never said another horde beast did it. I think it was you."  
Amethyst glared at him. "Well, I can assure you that I hold no interest in your property. What could you possibly have that I want?"  
Scarstripe growled. "Quit playing me like a fool. I have plenty that you would want." He pulled a small key ring from a pouch on his belt and let the keys dangle for a moment. "Freedom, for instance."  
"Well, you're not getting me to admit to anything...because I did nothing. There is no way I could have taken something from you." She held up her chained wrists. "I can't move from this spot unless you let me...and you never do when you are gone. Common sense is a miraculous thing, I suggest you find some."  
Scarstripe slammed his fist down on his desk and stood, walking over to the mouse and glaring down at her. "You're lying! I can tell. No one else would have taken the Loamhedge map. I know you did it thinking it would keep your pitiful friends safe, but be quick to realise that nothing can help them. You would be wise to return the map to me before I decide on a punishment."  
Amethyst shuddered and shrunk away from the enraged weasel. "I swear, I don't have your map! Did it ever occur to you to sort through your pile for it?"  
Scarstripe seemed to freeze, but continued to glare down at her. "There is no need...I left it on top."  
Amethyst allowed herself a soft chuckle. "You put another map over it when you told your officers to hunt down Trent. Did you switch them back after you were done? It's worth a check...setter than making a stupid mistake because of blind rage."  
Scarstripe walked back to his map table, where his dagger still held the map of the surrounding area in place. He freed the dagger while glaring at the mouse and lifted the map aside. Underneath, a hole in its middle from where the dagger pierced it, was the rough map of the abbey. Scarstripe let the map fall back onto the table and stormed out of the tent without a word. Amethyst breathed a sigh of relief. Scarstripe was getting too out of control. She needed to find a way out, and quickly, before she ended up dead.  
  
Chapter IV  
  
Solace, Arkain, and Blackstrike made their way down the abbey's corridors, Arkain leading the way to his quarters. All three were focused on the pressing matter concerning Amethyst, and none bothered to hide their disliking towards the vermin horde leader.  
"Daresay, if I get a hold o' that vermin, I'll skin 'em live." Arkain curled his lip back in a snarl. "Ain't no slaver that deserves t' live."  
Blackstrike nodded. "Just save me a piece, mate. I owe 'im for a few 'lessons' he gave me."  
'Ghost'll figure summat out, he's a bright chap." Solace grinned as she trailed behind the two. "We'll make 'em pay dearly, no doubts 'bout that, eh Arkain?"  
"None whatsoever." He stopped in front of his door and pushed it open, leading them all in. "Welcome t' m' humble abode. Have a seat."  
Blackstrike settled herself in the only chair available, so Solace had to settle for the bed. She plopped down onto it just as Arkain closed the door and walked towards the bed.  
"Pardon me, m'lady," He knelt down and fished under the bed, bringing out a wooden case with gold hinges and clasp. "Never thought I'd use these again."  
He set the case down on the bed next to Solace and opened it to reveal twin dirks. The two silver blades glinted as they caught their first light in ages, and the smooth, polished cedar handles, though worn from use, reflected a dark image of their surroundings. Arkain stared at himself in the blades' reflections as he lifted them from their velvety bed and admired their cool, lethal appearance.  
"Show me where th' weasel is, an' I'll teach 'im a thing or two 'bout close quarters combat." Arkain sheathed the daggers into the back of his belt, which had been made to accommodate the two blades, and put a black longcoat on. "Come on, let's see what Ghost's thought up of for a plan."  
  
Ghost, Myriad, and Mantis were in the Main Hall, hovering over a map and muttering to themselves. Arkain, Blackstrike, and Solace walked in just as Ghost was pointing to a spot on the map with his dagger.  
"You are certain this is the place?"  
Malice nodded. "Of course I am! I know where my own camp is."  
"Just making sure." Ghost grinned as he spotted the two hares and otter. "Glad to see you finally decided to join us."  
"Where're Montel an' Flynt?" Solace came up alongside Ghost and glanced at the map. "Is that wot we're gonna go 'gainst?"  
Ghost nodded. "That's the camp...according to Myriad and Mantis." He pointed towards the kitchen. "Flynt's in there...I'm not sure where Montel ran off to."  
Ghost glanced up from the map and counted everyone that was involved, a faint smile playing across his face. Solace eyed him curiously.  
"Wot y' be smilin' 'bout, Ghost?"  
"Eight. Perfect size. Not too big, not too small." He pointed back at the map. "Alright, let's get a plan going."  
"Wait, yore not going to start without Montel and Flynt, are ye?" Blackstrike started walking towards the kitchen. "I'll find Flynt, someone, find Montel. Arkain, check the courtyard."  
The black hare nodded and was off like a shot, leaving Myriad, Solace, Mantis, and Ghost alone in the Main Hall.  
"Well, I guess it would not hurt to think ahead, right Ghost?" Mantis drew a dagger and pointed to the map. "If I'm not mistaken, the best tactic would involve this, right here." He slammed the dagger down, pin-pointing the spot he was referring to on the map.  
Chapter V  
  
Trent frowned as he stood silently, the tree acting as a natural barrier between himself and the unseen archer in the branches above. The sniper had tried on countless occasions to sneak around, but Trent's careful ear had heard him every time, and the standoff continued to draw on.  
"Ye can't hide ferever, fox."  
"You can't run around in circles forever, either." Trent picked up a stone and threw it at something he thought he had seen move. It clattered back to the ground, striking the soft dirt with a thud. "Face it, you'll just have to give up."  
"Never."  
There was a moment's silence, followed by a piercing whistle. Trent froze and listened into the wind. Only when a sharp whistle echoed back did the worry begin to show on his face.  
"Ye hear that, fox? That's my partner. He'll be along soon, so just sit tight."  
Trent growled and patted the still sheathed dagger at his side. There was a soft rustling of leaves, and the fox glanced over his shoulder in time to see a rat creep out of the bushes, cutlass drawn and held at ready.  
"Ye called?" The rat glanced up at the tree, then back at the fox, still keeping his distance.  
"Aye, I called. Ye got rope?"  
The rat nodded. "I've got rope."  
"Keep an eye on th' fox. I'm coming down."  
The rat stood motionless, his gaze cold and foreboding as he stared at the fox. Trent stood up, drawing his height up full and returning the rat's glare with his own. The two carried on with the contest until a soft prodding from an arrow tip forced Trent to look down at his side. Standing, bow drawn and pointed at the fox's side, was a small, wiry ferret.  
"So," Trent said coolly. "You're the tree climber."  
The ferret nodded. "Now, are ye gona get movin'?"  
Trent nodded. "Lead the way."  
The ferret stared at him, trying to decipher the message within the words. Then, with a shrug, he started to walk past, brushing his shoulder against Trent. The red fox moved like a blur. Reaching under his cape, he drew the dagger and drove it at the ferret's chest, while at the same time grabbing the ferret by the back of the neck and throwing him into the blade. The ferret howled and slumped forward, though was spared instant death by chance. The rat charged, swinging the cutlass about in a wide arc, trying to avoid hitting his companion. Trent pulled the ferret up by the back of the neck and used him as a shield. There was a soft whimper and a thud as the ferret's body hit the ground, and both rat and fox were staring each other down, both with weapons held ready.  
"You will die, fox."  
Trent shook his head. "You first."  
The rat snarled and stepped forward. Then, to Trent's surprise, he dropped the cutlass, staggered back a few steps, and fell to the ground, dead with an arrow in his back. The Foxtribe leader stared in bewilderment at the body, and then he slowly brought his gaze up to the area behind where the rat had been. Leaning heavily against a tree, a bow held loosely in one paw and the second still back near his ear, where it had been when the shaft was released, was Blythe. Without walking up to him, Trent could tell something had gone terribly wrong, and that his comrade was wounded.  
"Blythe, what happened?"  
Blythe just smiled weakly and let the bow fall to the ground. Worried for his fellow fox, Trent ran over, and became aware of his friend's problem. Blythe's fur, which was normally clean and well tended, like his own, was instead matted with blood from several wounds, three of which were deep and had undoubtedly been caused by a blade. With nothing more than a nod between them, Trent put one arm around Blythe's shoulders and bean to lead the wounded fox back to their hideaway.  
  
Khale frowned slightly and stared skyward. "It's not like him."  
"Of course it is. For as long as he's been leader, he always has made his own agenda." A black vixen peered out of the rabbit den and tapped Khale on the leg. "Now come on before some beast sees you."  
Khale glanced down at the vixen. "Ain't no one's gonna notice me." He ducked down all the same. "Somethin's not right in my bones."  
"I can scout, if it would put a troubled mind at ease."  
Khale nodded. "Do so, Slyver. Report back as soon as you can."  
The sleek, black vixen slunk off without a sound. Khale watched her leave and retreated back into the rabbit den. He knew, somehow, that things were not all proper. Something had gone wrong, and he was going to find out what.  
"Comrade Khale, come quick."  
Khale jumped and turned, his eyes settling on the vixen immediately. "I thought you were going to go scout."  
Slyver shook her head. "They're back. Come quick, Blythe's wounded."  
Khale shouted down to the rest of the foxes for a healer before darting out of the den to meet his commander. When he saw Blythe, he knew what had gone wrong without having to be told. Instinct told him all he needed to know. He silently walked up to Trent.  
"Trackers?"  
Trent nodded, passing Blythe over to the two foxes that had emerged from the den to treat Blythe's wounds. "We got six of them, might be as much as ten more out there. They're getting close, so we need to keep a watch up at all times, and no one is permitted to leave on their own."  
Khale nodded and watched the two foxes half lead; half carry Blythe into the den. "Understood." He bowed slightly, excusing himself, and vanished into the rabbit hole.  
Trent sighed heavily and looked at his blood-caked cape. "This'll never wash out, will it."  
Slyver chuckled at the statement. "If that is foremost on your mind, then you have a lot to learn, Comrade."  
Trent nodded and looked up at the black vixen. "It is the least of my concerns. Come, we have much to discuss."  
The two left the small clearing, vanishing into the den.  
  
Chapter VI  
  
Ghost stood once more at the gates of Loamhedge, gazing out at the forest before him. On his left stood Myriad, who was also admiring the world outside of the abbey's walls. Montel and Mantis were carrying on a conversation somewhere behind him, as were Lady Flynt and Blackstrike. Solace and Arkain were bringing up the rear, and, much to Ghost's chagrin, were as flirtatious as he had been with Celleste. He leaned over and half whispered to Myriad.  
"It seems that no sooner do I arrive here, than I am off on another trek through the woods."  
She chuckled. "A look into th' future, perhaps?"  
Ghost hoisted his haversack up onto his shoulder, they had all packed light having not planned to be gone for more than three days at most, and gave Myriad a curious glance. "How so?"  
"Have ye ever stayed anywhere fer long, Ghost?" She smiled over at him. "I think ye were born t' wander."  
Ghost pointed a finger accusingly at her. "I'll settle down one of these days, you'll see."  
Her smile faded into a slight grin. "Will I?"  
The two stared at each other in silence, Myriad grinning, Ghost looking as if he had fallen into a state of mild shock. Ghost broke the spell with a wave of his paw. Turning back to the rest of the group, he whistled to get their attention.  
"Are we ready to go?"  
"As ready as we'll ever be, sah!" Arkain called up from the back of the group.  
Montel nodded slowly and patted the haft of his axe. "Let's get 'em."  
A nod from the rest quickly announced they were set to go. With a grin, Ghost strode out of the gates, waving to the two abbey mice who were standing, ready to close the massive doors once everyone was out. With hardly a word passing between them, save for the hushed exchange taking place between the two hares, the small group crossed the clearing that separated Loamhedge from the forest, and like phantoms in the morning mist, they vanished into the dense foliage. The only sound audible to those in the area that announced the group's departure was the soft boom as the two doors closed off the abbey from the outside world, and the clank of the locks, securing the massive gates in place.  
  
Hidden in the shadows, black robe drawn about him tightly, Darkbane watched the eight beasts leave the abbey. A paw strayed to his belt and gave one of his daggers a reassuring pat. From deep within his black, cold eyes, something seemed to glint.  
"So it goes," he whispered to himself. "It was once said, Mantis, that a land-raised fox would perish at sea, as everything he knows to be true holds false on the free waters, no matter how cunning he may be. He could try to outwit the fishes, but they would answer with a cold, uncaring glare. So will I with you, Maester. Our war is just beginning." He chuckled low and dark as he turned and started walking in a direction that would soon have him on their trail. "And Ghost, if only you knew." He drew the hood of his robe over his head and face and rubbed his paws together in rapt anticipation. "If only, but alas, you do not. What a pity."  
  



	8. Part Eight: Noontide

Part Eight  
Noontide  
  
Chapter I  
  
Ghost wiped his brow and glared up at the noon time sun that was beating them from overhead. The day had turned into a hot one, making the hike to Scarstripe's camp a slow and weary one. Granted there was tree cover, but the patchwork shade offered by the canopy did little to dispel the heat. Ghost wiped his brow again and waved for the group to stop.  
"Too hot to go on much more without a rest. Solace, break out the drinks and get a small meal ready. Montel, Arkain, and Lady Flynt, you stay and watch camp. Mantis, Myriad, you come with me."  
Blackstrike tapped the ferret on the shoulder. "And me?"  
Ghost stared at her blankly for a moment. "Oh, yes, sorry. Help Solace with the meal."  
The otter chuckled and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "It's alright. We'll have somethin' nice waitin' fer ya when ye get back."  
Ghost nodded and motioned for Mantis and Myriad to follow him. Together, the three ventured ahead into the forest.  
"What is your plan, Ghost?" Mantis loosened his black robe and allowed the air to stir the white fur hidden beneath it. "I hope it involves a good swim."  
"Sorry. I didn't plan on that, unless we happen upon a lake or stream. How far would you say the camp is?"  
Myriad scratched her head. "Well, by my reckonin', little less than half a day's march yet." She shook her head. "Heat's slowed us down plenty."  
Mantis nodded. "I agree. We had planned, and hoped, for ideal conditions and weather. This is far from it."  
Ghost looked around and spotted an arrow sticking up in the dirt. Curious, he walked over to it and started upon spying something else. "Mantis, Myriad, come here. Who are they?"  
Mantis followed Ghost's pointing finger and frowned at the two dead stoats. "Scouts. Looks like one had a run-in with a dagger. The other," he knelt to examine the neck, which was bent at an odd angle. "Lost to either brute force, or grim determination. I'll guess the latter simply because of that." He pointed to the dried blood that covered the stoat's blade; then to the trail of blood that led off through the trees.  
Ghost frowned. "Wonder who it was. Are there bound to be more about?"  
Myriad nodded. "Scout group was about one score. If this' only two, then figure eighteen more."  
"It would be wise to move." Mantis retrieved the dagger from the stoat's body and wiped it clean. "Before they come."  
Mantis suddenly howled and pitched forward, dropping the dagger to the ground. Ghost and Myriad both snapped their heads in his direction, and noticed, with the same startled reaction, the arrow protruding from his left shoulder. A harsh cackle rang through the area, and Myriad gasped as three of the scouts, a two weasels and a rat, stepped out of the bushes, one of the weasels loading a new arrow onto his bow.  
"Mantis, Myriad, fancy meetin' ye here. Yer traitors, ye know. Ahm s'posed t' kill traitors." The weasel brought his bow up, sighted down the shaft, and drew the arrow back to fire. "Sweet dreams."  
A streak of black struck the weasel in the head, and he fell dead with the familiar dark arrow half buried in his skull. The loaded arrow was released, but flew off in a wild path that ended with a soft thud against a stout elm. The other weasel and rat hardly had time to comprehend what had happened, before they too shared in their partner's fate. Ghost drew his dagger and motioned Myriad to stay back.  
"Well, if it isn't Ghost. And is that Myriad? My, my, it truly is a mall world."  
Myriad gulped. "I recognise that voice."  
"Me too." Ghost growled. "Trent! Enough of the cowardly hiding, come out and fight, if that is your intention."  
The fox, flanked by Khale and the all black vixen, Slyver, stepped into view and passed his bow to Khale. "If I wanted to kill you, Ghost, then I would do so. You are lucky my scout," he motioned to Slyver, "caught wind of those three," he pointed to the dead vermin, "and reported back in time."  
"I know that tone of voice, Trent. What do you want?" Ghost sheathed his dagger, but kept a ready paw on it.  
"I have an offer, if you will hear me out."  
Ghost glanced at Khale, then Slyver. "Do we have a choice?"  
Trent shook his head. "Get the ermine, Khale, and take him to our healers. Ghost, Myriad, come. We have much to discuss."  
"We discuss it here, or back at my camp, Trent." Ghost crossed his arms. "Which will it be?"  
"My camp. Here is too open; there are more scouts about, and if I went to yours, Montel would kill me and my comrades in an instant." Trent sighed. "I mean you no harm, Ghost. What I have to say will benefit you and your task."  
Ghost glanced back at Myriad, then down at Mantis. "Fine. But these two never leave my sight. Also, Trent, bear in mind that I will have my revenge."  
"Not now. Revenge is a game of patience. Let me have mine with Scarstripe's scum first."  
"Why do you seek revenge against them?"  
Trent narrowed his eyes. "Aside from the fact that he is trying to kill me, one of my dear comrades is currently on his deathbed. I trust you know how that feels. Now are you going to make us sit out here in the open, or are you coming?" Trent motioned Khale to help Mantis to his feet. "Scarstripe's out to kill both of us. I do not kill someone when they share an enemy with me."  
Ghost nodded. "Your word as a fox?"  
"My word as both fox and comrade of Foxtribe. Honour above all."  
"Sure." Ghost glared at the fox. "And I'm a mouse."  
  
  
  
Chapter II  
  
Scarstripe was trying desperately to fend off the oncoming headache. News, what little of it had come from the hunters, was enough to make him seethe. Seven were dead, with two missing. To make matters worse, none of them had any sightings of Trent or his Foxtribe. The only sighting reported was that of a woodlander camp nearby. His dark eyes locked on the rat standing before him, and he uttered a low growl.  
"Sir, would it be wise t' attack th' wooders' camp?"  
Scarstripe rubbed his temple and glared at the rat. "Your hunters failed me, Grall, and you try to give me advice?" He thrust a finger back at the huddled form of Amethyst, who was sitting on the ground. "That is what the 'wooders' are after. They pose nothing near the threat that Trent and his treacherous Foxtribe does. They are all from Loamhedge, and Loamhedge has no warriors!"  
Grall silently backed out of the tent. He had seen Scarstripe in a rage before, and did not wish to experience the nightmarish sight again. He pulled a stoat aside and whispered his orders.  
"Dostoe, I want you t' go keep an eye on that woodlander camp."  
The stoat saluted and straightened his stance. Right erway, sir, ain't a problem. Ye'll see, sir."  
"Just get the job done." With a wave of his paw, he dismissed the stoat.  
  
Back in his tent, Scarstripe was sitting in his chair, leaning on one of the armrests and staring Amethyst over. A curious expression had formed on his face, and he seemed lost in thought. Amethyst eyed him warily, wondering if there was any need for alarm, or if she would need to talk him down again.  
"Amethyst,"  
She gulped. The weasel's voice was frighteningly calm and reserved. "Yes?"  
"You would tell me if there were any fighters who were members of your abbey, right?"  
"Of course, sir."  
Scarstripe nodded. "Good." He sat upright and narrowed his eyes at her. "Are there?"  
Hesitantly, Amethyst nodded. "One...a hare named Arkain. Be advised, sir, that he does not take kindly to slavers like yourself."  
Scarstripe waved the comment aside and looked down at his maps. "So, there is one who can fight...who would Arkain have brought along with him?"  
Amethyst shrugged. "I wouldn't know, sir."  
"You aren't lying to me, are you?" He glanced over at her.  
Amethyst grinned and shook her head.  
Scarstripe nodded. "Good. It would be a shame to have to kill you."  
  
Darkbane watched the camp in silence. Somehow, without his knowledge, Mantis, Myriad, and Ghost had wandered off. He growled and cursed himself for not having paid closer attention. There was nothing to do now but wait. The three would back eventually, and he would be on the hunt again.  
"Psst, you,"  
Darkbane's dagger flashed from its sheath and pressed dangerously up against the stoat's throat. The two stared at each other, one ready to kill, the other in shocked silence. With a hushed growl, Darkbane released the stoat.  
"Why are you here?"  
"I was sent, sir, t' watch th' woodies, sir. I didn't know that yer already watchin' 'em." Dostoe trembled slightly. "Yer from Scarstripe, right?"  
Darkbane sheathed his dagger. "Aye, I am, and I'm on a very important mission," he whispered to the stoat. "Bug off before you ruin it for me."  
The stoat whined and Darkbane clamped a paw on his mouth. There were several minutes of forced silence until Darkbane let him speak again.  
"Sir, I was told t' watch th' woodies."  
Darkbane pointed towards Scarstripe's camp. "These are the last two words you will hear from me, either because you heed them, or you are dead. Bug off."  
The stoat backed away slowly, bowing and trying to appear as meek as possible. The strange rat scared him, and he had already felt how sharp the daggers were. The two blades were not something he wanted to meet with any time soon. With out a backward glance, Dostoe ran the entire way back to camp to report his latest failure.  
Darkbane watched him leave and grinned to himself. It was comforting to know that one still had the ability to intimidate, and it was a skill he would take care to further in the seasons to come. He was an assassin; it was a skill that was needed before a reputation could be born. Darkbane wanted a reputation.  
  
Chapter III  
  
Solace yawned and stretched as she looked around the silent camp. Blackstrike was dozing near the fire, where the remnants of a top rate meal of vegetable soup still waited for three more to come and eat. Lady Flynt was perched in a tree, resting on a low hanging bough and staring at nothing in particular. In a far corner of the camp, in his usual semi-isolation, Montel was cleaning his axe out of boredom. Arkain, in the meantime, was pacing back and forth, arms clasped behind his back and a scowl plastered on his face.  
"It's been a while. They should be back by now."  
Solace shrugged. "Ghost's always had his own agenda. He'll be back when he's back." She tried in vain to scratch an itch on her back. "Arkain, stop pacin' an' do somethin' worthwhile."  
Arkain glanced back at her. "Right, whatever y' say." He rolled his eyes and pointed at the three untouched servings, already cold by the fire. "I'm tellin' y' somtehin's wrong. What beast in their right mind wouldn't return for a good meal?"  
"Always food." Lady Flynt shook her head. "All ya hares are th' same. Always thinkin' about food. Get it out o' yer minds." She yawned. "Ghost'll be back when he's back. That's all there is to it."  
Montel looked up from cleaning his axe and eyed the two hares. "Someone should look for them."  
"Why? Ye'd just get y'self lost." Solace jumped up and walked over to Arkain. "Scratch m'back, please. That's good." She grinned slightly as the annoying itch vanished. "Montel, what if y' wandered off an' they got back? We'd have t' wait 'till y' got back before we could move again. It'd slow us down."  
Montel nodded slowly. "Alright. Then we stay put and wait."  
"Good call, chap. Alright, thanks Arkain." Solace patted the other hare on the shoulder and walked over to the fire. "Y' think they'll want cold food? Might be best t' have somethin' hot waitin' for 'em."  
"Right. But y' can't let th' cold stuff go t' waste. Pass a bowl this way." Arkain snatched two of the three servings up and handed one to Solace. "Anyone else want th' third?"  
"We'll race for it, Arkain. First one done with th' first bowl, gets th' second."  
Arkain nodded. "Alright, then hop to! Montel, be a good sport an' wake Blackstrike. We'll need more tuck soon."  
Montel grumbled and shook his head. "Wake 'im yourself, you gluttonous ball of fur."  
Arkain looked up from his bowl of soup and frowned. "Not a good sport, are y' stripedog."  
Montel growled. "Don't call me stripedog, flopears."  
"If y' call me flopears, I'll call y' whatever I well please, cumbersome oaf."  
"I'm not so cumbersome in a fight, you overstuffed fleabag." Montel pointed to his axe. "I'll show you how fast a badger can be."  
"I'm done!" Solace snatched the second bowl of soup and tossed the empty bowl at Arkain. "Quit arguin' with th' badger or I'll make sure that y' regret it."  
Arkain's jaw dropped. "Th' whole bally lot o' y' are gainin' up on me. First th' overgrown weasel calls me names, then I'm deprived of a good meal."  
Montel chuckled. "Well, guess you are slow, then."  
"I am hardly slow, just distracted."  
Montel shrugged. "Same thing. You are slow."  
Arkain stood up and pointed a finger at the badger. "Now, y' listen here, y' big, overgrown, flea ridden excuse fer a fighter, I'm a hare, an' like all hares, I'm faster than y' could ever be!"  
"Not fast enough." Solace snatched the bowl of soup from Arkain's paw and handed him her empty one. "Snooze an' y' lose."  
Arkain gaped open jawed at the empty bowl. "Now that's a bloody mean thing t' do."  
"Guess you will need to be faster next time, speedy one." Montel laughed and set his axe aside. "Too bad this time."  
"Shut yer trap, stripedog."  
"Come over here and make me, flopears."  
"Knock it off, both of you!" Lady Flynt threw a small branch at them. "Some of us are tryin' to sleep."  
Arkain slowly sat back down, a fain grin playing on his face. "Y' know I was only jokin', right?"  
"Of course." Montel grinned and continued with cleaning his axe. "Flopear."  
"Scumbag."  
"Glutton."  
"Enough!"  
Both looked up at Lady Flynt in time to duck the oncoming twigs.  
"Dreadfully sorry ma'am. Never happen again. My word as a hare!"  
"My word as a badger. Never again, Lady Flynt." Montel laughed and focused his attention on his axe.  
Arkain shrugged and looked at his empty bowl. "Well, someone's gotta wake Blackstrike up. We need food."  
Solace shoved him. "Well, I know a good candidate. Hop to, lad."  
"Sorry, but wakin' sleepin' otters is not in my job description."  
Solace rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Well, then it'll just have t' wait 'till they get back, however long that'll take."  
Arkain hopped up. "I'll get right on it."  
  
Chapter IV  
  
Ghost trudged along after the three foxes, flanked by Mantis and Myriad. His eyes darted constantly from Slyver, to Khale, to Trent, always resting on the Foxtribe leader for a moment while every emotion of hate brewed within his mind and soul. All he wanted was to draw his dagger and strike, and he knew he could. The only thing that held him in check was the ferret to his right, and the ermine to his left. There was no way he would see their lives put at risk because of his personal vendetta. If he were to attack and kill Trent, he held no doubts that Khale and Slyver would call the rest of Foxtribe on them, and he would be killed, along with Myriad, and Mantis. They did not deserve that death, and Ghost would not be the one to bring it on them.  
"Where are the rabbits that lived here?"  
Ghost glanced at Myriad. Those had been the first words spoken since they had arrived at the Foxtribe hideaway.  
"They ran when Scarstripe entered the area. There was no one here when we arrived and took it as our own home." Trent grinned back at them.  
Ghost could tell that Trent was lying, but he did not express his suspicion aloud. "Trent, I do not want my friends to leave my sight. If Mantis goes to the infirmary, then all of us go, and the meeting can be held there."  
Trent flashed Ghost a sly smile. "Not too trusting, are we now, Ghost?"  
"Never." Ghost patted his daggers and grinned back at the fox. "Watch your back. You may be a fox, but I know that game just as well as any of your kind."  
"Of course you would, Ghost," Trent turned and led them into the makeshift infirmary, which was really one of the many bedrooms in the rabbit den. "You are an assassin, and by trade you must know how to think like that. Come, now let's see what we can do about Mantis, shall we?"  
"I can care for my own arm, fox." Mantis snarled at one of the infirmary attendants, a young vixen, as she approached. "I'll bandage it myself."  
Ghost watched the fellow assassin make his way over to the limited supplies housed on a shelf and work on his arm. With a sigh, he glanced back at Myriad, showing just how tired he was. Myriad frowned and shook her head.  
"Make it quick, Trent. We ain't got all day."  
Trent growled and walked over to a bed, where the battered form of Blythe was sleeping his last few hours away. "Few of us have all day, Myriad. I want to propose a temporary alliance. We have the fighting force to bring Scarstripe to his knees, and you have the desire to rescue a friend of yours."  
Ghost shrugged. "So?"  
"So, we can benefit from one another. You drag Amethyst out of the camp, and Scarstripe will undoubtedly follow. That gives my foxes a wonderful chance to test their predatory skills, and I get a shot at killing Scarstripe."  
The two ferrets eyed each other, then Trent.  
"So you are proposing this alliance because you wish to help?"  
"Nonsense, Ghost. Your actions would simply benefit mine, and because of that, I want you to succeed. I could care less about sympathy for you, or for any of those pitiful abbey dwellers at Loamhedge. I have my own vendetta, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to get my shot at the weasel."  
"And you will not harm any of my friends?" Ghost asked.  
Trent shook his head. "My word as a fox, as a Silverblade, and as a member of Foxtribe."  
The fox offered his paw, and Ghost stared at it for a moment. With a slight hesitance, that later turned to reluctance, he gripped Trent's paw and gave it a firm shake. The deal was done, and although the alliance would benefit his own cause, Ghost still felt like a traitor for making a pact with his enemy.  
Ghost turned to Mantis and gave him a slight wave, motioning that he was ready to leave. Giving Myriad a slow nod, he walked towards the exit, his two companions flanking him once more.  
"Ghost, it would be best to move tomorrow night."  
Ghost half growled at the fox. "I'll be sure to remember that, Trent."  
  
Arkain picked his teeth clean of bits of dried fruit with his dirk. Blackstrike was sleeping once more, after handing out the food as an alternative to cooking a new meal. The two hares put up little argument.  
"It's a shame, y' know, ol' Ghost not getting' his fill o' th' food."  
Solace shrugged at Arkain's comment. "Hardly. They didn't bother t' show, so why should it be our problem?"  
"Because we are a group. An individual's problem becomes everyone's problem."  
Both hares gave Montel a glance, then looked at each other and shrugged. Montel sighed and shook his head as the chatter went on. Turning his attention to his axe, he ran a paw over the keen edge and stared at the blurred reflection within the overly shined head. His roving eye caught movement in the reflection, something in the bushes behind him, and he turned quickly, bringing the axe up to strike at any would be attackers. He found himself staring at Ghost. With a grin, he lowered the axe and clapped the ferret on the back.  
"We were getting worried, Ghost. Those two hares ate the food we had set aside for you." He nodded to Myriad and Mantis, glancing curiously at the ermine's bandaged arm. "Are you all alright?"  
Ghost eyed Arkain and Solace, whom were both so involved in their own conversation that they had failed to notice the trio's return. "Well, Montel, we are fine. We had something to eat already."  
Montel nodded and furrowed his brow. "Where?"  
Ghost whistled and caught everyone's attention, including a drowsy Lady Flynt, and a stupefied Blackstrike, both of which had just been roused from their sleep. Waving them all towards him, he grinned slightly.  
"We have allies who will help us deal with Scarstripe."  
There was a moment of dead silence until Lady Flynt spoke up.  
"Who's gonna be fightin' alongside us?"  
Ghost took a deep breath and bit his lip. "Trent and his Foxtribe."  
Silence fell again, but this time it was filled with looks of shock and spiteful hatred. Solace walked over to a log to sit, while Montel buried his axe into the ground. Lady Flynt turned and stomped off back to her tree, and her nesting branch. Glaring down at Ghost, she made known what all of the others were thinking.  
"Why'd ya even trust 'im? He's a scoundrel, a murderer, an' I wouldn't trust 'im any more'n I could throw 'im. What if he's just gonna do what he did last time?"  
Ghost shook his head as he escorted a tired Myriad to a spot near where Solace was sitting and sat her down as well. "I'm trusting him, just this one more time. I would be the last one to trust him, after what he did, but he's out to kill Scarstripe, and we both have him as a common enemy."  
"I know Trent," Myriad spoke up, "And I'd be willin' t' side with Ghost. There's bad blood between Scarstripe an' that fox, an' Trent wants t' see th' fight through. It'll only last one night, but I'd venture t' guess that on that night, he can be trusted t' help bring Scarstripe down."  
Lady Flynt and Solace stared at Myriad for a moment before staring off into emptiness. It was obvious that they would have preferred anything other than an alliance with Trent. Ghost sighed and sat down next to Myriad.  
"Listen, I made one mistake leading this group, and I vowed never to make it again. I would not rush to this judgement, and would only make it only if I had no doubts whatsoever about what I think is true. I struck a deal with Trent, and I know that this time he will keep to his word."  
Blackstrike looked up at Ghost. "What bargain did ye make?"  
"Once we have Amethyst, we lure Scarstripe out, and the kill goes to Trent. In return, he will give us cover, as well as a diversion, with his Foxtribe."  
"Luck help us all, Ghost, if yore wrong." Blackstrike crossed her arms and leaned against a tree. "But luck help yoreself most of all."  
Ghost drew a dagger and tested its edge. "Luck won't do me much good, Blackstrike."  
"Why not?"  
Ghost sheathed the dagger and grinned coldly. "I don't believe in it."  
  
Chapter V  
  
Trent was sitting in the former bedroom turned infirmary in the rabbit den, watching as Blythe slept. He had been informed not more than a few minutes ago, that Blythe would not wake from the sleep, and if he did, not for long. Nightshade, the vixen who headed up the infirmary, claimed to have found several symptoms that pointed to poisoning, and that Blythe was beyond help. There was nothing to do now but sit and wait for nightfall.  
"That was clever, Trent."  
Trent glanced over his shoulder and nodded politely to Khale, though he did not stand to greet the elder fox. Khale eyed his comrade as he took a seat next to him.  
"Somethin' botherin' you, Trent?"  
Trent nodded slowly and looked back at the still form of Blythe. "We're slowly losing another of our comrades." He blinked and looked back at Khale, his sombre expression holding within it a tint of confusion. "What was I clever about?"  
"How you dealt with that ferret. He'll have no idea we're attacking him." Khale smiled slightly, but only received a blank look from his friend. "That was your plan, right?"  
Trent shook his head slowly. "I'm in no mood to kill them. Blythe is dying; it is even possible to consider him dead already. I am in the mood to kill Scarstripe, and I will kill Scarstripe. Just this once, Khale, I think we will have an ally and let them live. Not everything needs to end with betrayal."  
Khale nodded slowly. It was obvious that Trent was obsessing over the latest loss in their ranks. That was, in part, a good thing; a sign of a true leader. However, in his own opinion, Khale felt that there were times for sympathy and mourning, and times to end your enemies' existence.  
"I fear, Lord Trent, that you are allowing yourself to be influenced by your emotions."  
Trent drew his rapier and offered it to Khale. "If you think I am not fit to lead, Khale," his voice held a tinge of coldness in it. "Then take my rapier, and fight me for command. Otherwise, let me make the decisions. Sometimes, Khale, it is wise to follow your emotions."  
The two stared at each other, eyes locked together. Khale tried to see past the cold expression of his leader's face, but he lost the staring match, and silently, he stood and withdrew from the room. Perhaps, just this once, Trent was correct about something.  
Trent watched Khale leave, and without a word he sheathed his rapier and turned his gaze back to Blythe. Khale presented a problem, one that would need to be taken care of. That would happen on its own time, though. For now, he would content himself with keeping his mind occupied with current issues. With a sigh, he stood and walked over to Blythe's bedside.  
"Blythe, I know you can probably hear me, perhaps in a dream. Know now, before you leave our ranks and join those we have lost in the past, that we will win, and that I fight for you. Comrade of Foxtribe, sleep well knowing this piece of knowledge: we will prevail."  
He glanced over his shoulder. Nightshade was entering with a rag and jar of warm water. She gave him a slow nod as she walked up to the bedside and dampened the rag.  
"Nothing left to do now but keep him comfortable," she said.  
Trent nodded and turned to leave. "Do what you can." Without a backward glance, he hardened his expression and left the room.  
  
Khale made his way through the halls and corridors, half growling at the vastness of Foxtribe's latest base. His eye caught something, like a shadow, and he moved towards it.  
"Slyver?"  
"The one and only, Khale." Slyver flashed him a smile and approached him. "How goes, Comrade?"  
"Remind me never to suggest a rabbit den for a home ever again."  
Slyver chuckled. "How is Trent?"  
"He's too full of emotion to think clearly, if you ask me. I think it's clouding his mind."  
Slyver eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. "What do you suggest we do?"  
Khale shrugged. "Relieve him of command?"  
Slyver nodded. "That may be a smart move. Come, follow me, we can plan."  
Khale perked an ear up, slightly surprised to have found an ally. He took a step towards her and doubled over in pain. Something wrenched in his gut, and he fell to the ground, clutching the grip of a dagger. A second wave of pain exploded in his throat, and he suddenly felt short winded and unable to speak. As his eyes clouded over, he watched the black paw free the dagger from his stomach and wipe it clean on his shirt.  
"Don't think you could conspire against Trent and get away with it." Slyver grinned and cleaned the blade she had used to slit his throat. She watched him move his mouth, as if to speak, and chuckled. "You think I can't get away with it? Well I'll let you in on a little secret." She leaned down near his ear. "My full name happens to be Lady Slyver Silverblade." She stood back up and locked her dark eyes on the older fox's. "Farewell, Khale."  
  
Trent was walking up the corridors when he ran into Slyver. She smiled at him and placed a comforting arm around his shoulders. He patted her paw and smiled half-heartedly.  
"Trent, dear?"  
"Yes Slyver?"  
"Khale's dead. He was conspiring against you, so I killed him."  
Trent eyed her for a moment before nodding slowly. "I knew he would. It was good he was dealt with before influence spread. Thank you."  
Slyver grinned coolly. "No problem, dear. Now come on, you look like you need some rest."  
  
Chapter VI  
  
Scarstripe stared at the closed flap of his tent, oblivious to almost everything around him. The only thing he was faintly aware of, and that was simply because she was the only thing moving in the tent, was Amethyst. She was pacing in her limited area, restricted by the chain anchored her to the ground.  
"Two days, Amethyst."  
She looked up at the weasel. "Hmm?"  
"Two days and we attack the abbey. Foxtribe has been dormant, and scouts report nothing of any sort happening anywhere." He rolled his head to one side and looked at her. "So I have decided that in two days, we attack Loamhedge."  
Amethyst stared at him in silence and slowly sank to a sitting position on the ground. She knew that, save for a few, Loamhedge had no fighters, or at least none that could stand against a horde. If Scarstripe attacked, then she would see home again, but it would be nothing more than a prison. As the idea of what could happen came to her, a single thought entered her mind. A game she had played many times as a dibbun, when simple thievery of sweets was nothing more than a form of amusement, and bluffing one's way out of it became a skill.  
"You won't win, Scarstripe."  
The weasel eyed her carefully. "And why not, dear?"  
She narrowed her eyes and smiled wryly. "Because I know Loamhedge fighters, and they're not the type to lose."  
"Loamhedge has fighters now?" Scarstripe arched an eyebrow. "How interesting. Especially since you told me there was no beast in your abbey, save one, that could fight."  
Amethyst's wry smile turned into a smirk. "I lied. Sorry, but I guess I lied about that."  
Scarstripe glared at her. "Why the sudden change of mind, mousy? Could it be because you don't want your precious little abbey to be destroyed? You're bluffing."  
Amethyst shook her head. "I'm telling you that it won't be easy. I just want to be there when Darek kills you. Maybe then you will see I was right."  
Scarstripe's face showed a brief flash of fear, and Amethyst caught it before it vanished. Hesitantly, Scarstripe started asking more about the abbey.  
"Who's Darek?"  
"The leader of our fighters. He's the Abbot's right paw, and a very skilled fighter. I would be very afraid, if I were you." She shrugged. "You might want to reconsider just walking in and trying to take the place by storm."  
Scarstripe narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. "Yes, I just might."  
Amethyst laughed inwardly, but outwardly maintained the taunting smirk. "You do that." Checkmate, game over, I win, she thought. Scarstripe had made the mistake of falling for her trick. If only you knew the smarts a dibbun has.  
  



	9. Part Nine: Darkest Night

Part Nine  
Darkest Night  
  
Chapter I  
  
Ghost stared at the flickering watchfires, far enough that they did not bother him, but close enough that he would need to start worrying in just a few moments. The time had come for the rescue, and everything had fallen into place. Standing to his left, for the first time since the defeat of Eagle Watch, stood Trent, who was clad in a dark, forest green robe. For Ghost, it felt awkward to be standing next to the one he hated as an ally, and every other thought was turned towards forgetting the pact and killing him on the spot.  
"It won't be easy, Ghost. I would expect trouble."  
Ghost nodded slowly. "In situations like this, Trent, we both know that it is normal to expect trouble. Is Foxtribe in place?"  
"Is your group?"  
The two glanced at each other and seemed to think the same thing. On any occasion but this, I would kill you in an instant. Ghost nodded slowly, both as an answer to Trent's question, and in affirmation to the desire for revenge he had running through his mind.  
"When you are ready, Trent." Ghost walked into the trees to get in place. "Just get the signal right."  
Trent chuckled. "I'm Foxtribe's leader, Ghost. When have you ever seen me fail in a fight?"  
Ghost shuddered. "Unfortunately, never. Don't die here, Trent. I want to see it happen."  
Trent laughed. "Not if I can help it. Get in place."  
Ghost made his way through some trees, closer to the campfires, and met up with Myriad and Mantis. Giving the two a nod -they were too close to say anything- he offered a grin and drew his daggers. Mantis nodded and patted his own under his robe. Myriad simply pointed to the tent that belonged to Scarstripe. Ghost studied it for a moment, sheathed his daggers, and nodded. All around the camp, members of Foxtribe were in place, ready to unleash two waves of their trademark black arrows, which would hopefully cause mass confusion. During this, Ghost was to take his small group and rescue Amethyst while Montel, Arkain, and Solace took care of the rest of the slaves in another part of the camp. Lady Flynt, not wanting to miss out on anything, had challenged one of the foxes to an archery contest, and stayed back to help with the first assault. They were ready.  
  
Trent detached a small adder skin pouch from his belt and drew from it an oil-soaked rag, which he wrapped around the tip of his arrow. Patiently, he set about with a small flint until the cloth caught fire, and was burning bright. He notched the arrow, drew the bow back to its bent, and loosed the shaft so it flew over the enemy camp. Immediately after, the first wave of black darts streaked into the unsuspecting horde, and their were screams of pain and shouts of surprise as the arrows did their damage.  
Alarms rang and defensive positions were taken as the Bloodslayers prepared to retaliate. Several fired back, but to no avail. Foxtribe waited, as ordered, until the time was right, and as if cued, the second wave struck, dealing more damage than the first. The Bloodslayers had prepared to advance towards the tree line and spread the watchfires for better visibility when the second wave of arrows struck. Immediately, the horde shrank back and took the defensive.  
Trent laughed and whistled, signalling to Ghost that he was free to go. From this point on, Foxtribe would not attack en masse, and the archers would pick targets and fire on their own. The rescue party was in no danger of being hit by their own.  
  
Scarstripe growled when the alarm rang and jumped for his chain-mail armour jacket. Outside he could hear the shouts for order in the ranks, and the shrieks as another beast fell. He knew who it was without seeing, as he knew only one who would dare attempt an attack.  
Foxtribe.  
The weasel narrowed his eyes and stepped out of his tent to join his troops.  
Amethyst watched him leave in silence and shuddered. If somebeast were able to defeat the horde, what would they do when they found her? The urge to panic gripped her, and she started pulling at the anchor that held her prisoner to the ground. The steak was driven in too deep, however, and it failed to even budge. Another idea, a more sensible one, came to mind, and she crawled on the ground and stretched to reach Scarstripe's chair.  
  
Ghost's ear perked as it caught the whistle travelling in the wind. With a faint nod and wave, he motioned for Mantis and Myriad to follow him. The three moved with all the skill in stealth that they knew, keeping low to the ground and hugging whatever shadows could be found; at times moving on all fours to keep from being seen. When they passed the outer fringe of the defensive line, Mantis took the lead and set a course for Scarstripe's tent. Ghost watched him and noted with some concern that his arm was still bothering him. It would probably need to be checked back at Loamhedge.  
Myriad tapped Ghost on the foot, and he turned to see what she needed. She pointed to Scarstripe, who had just left his tent and was joining the ranks. He nodded and passed the sighting up to Mantis, who just eyed his former leader for a brief moment before moving on.  
  
Montel waited until he was certain that Foxtribe had the full attention of the horde before leading his group on towards the stockades. Arkain and Solace were ready, keeping an eye out for guards and letting Montel lead. Things seemed to be going well; There were no casualties that they could see, and the first two waves were effective in what they were meant to do.  
Solace chuckled inwardly, but outwardly wore an expression of worry. Nothing went completely as planned. A mistake or mishap was inevitable, and if it did not happen during the beginning, then there were only two places left. During the extraction operation, or during the get away process. She wondered which it would be, and hoped that for once, everything went right for a change.  
  
Deep in the shadows, admiring the entire scene from a safe perch, Darkbane allowed himself a faint chuckle. Scarstripe and the Bloodslayers were getting a long needed lesson, and Foxtribe was, once again, enjoying the ability to destroy another horde. He, however, still had to wait. His time would come, and revenge would not be a trivial matter. His trained eye focused on the three figures making their way towards the stockades. Maybe his time had come, and the opportunity was presenting itself. He drew his daggers and began walking towards the badger and two hares.  
  
Chapter II  
  
"Keep your bloody heads down! I taught you more sense than that and I know it. Archers, return fire. Up and fire, keep it fast and furious. I want to see the carcasses of foxes all over these woods when the sun rises tomorrow." Scarstripe growled and kicked a stoat who was pressed to the ground in fear, his bow and arrows lying unused beside him. "Get up and fight. You don't see me cowering like a little mouse, do you?"  
He left the stoat where he found him and continued down the line. A rat fell back, struck by one of the black arrows, and into the warlord who casually pushed the body aside as if he did not notice it. His eyes burned and told everyone that to approach him or to disobey his orders would end in nothing but pain and public shame.  
"You there,"  
A ferret gulped and pointed to himself, giving his leader a questioning look.  
"Yes, you. Go to the stockades and make sure everything is all right over there. Kill anybeast that does not belong. Don't die on the way."  
The ferret nodded and crawled off towards where the slaves were kept. Scarstripe hardly gave him a second glance as he continued his walk of the defensive line.  
  
Trent watched the weasel carefully; biding his time until he deemed it fit to make an approach. Foxtribe was under strict orders not to harm the horde leader, as he had plans with how he was going to dispatch Scarstripe himself. He had lost sight of Ghost, Myriad, and Mantis a while back, and admitted to himself that the three had a shared talent that they were remarkably skilled at.  
"It is a lovely sight, is it not?"  
Trent nodded slowly and looked over his shoulder at Slyver. "Aye...a very nice sight indeed. You are not attacking?"  
The black vixen shrugged. "I was never skilled with a bow and arrow. My place is behind enemy lines, not on the front."  
"True," Trent nodded and studied the defensive line again. "Could you wreak havoc in that line?"  
Slyver chuckled. "Easily. They have no order or defence against a skilled infiltrator. Shall I?"  
Trent pondered the idea for a moment before shaking his head. "No. The arrows are enough. Besides, I would hate to see one of our foxes mistake you for a target."  
She smiled slightly. "Then shall I keep the leader company?"  
Trent nodded. "Yes, please do. I have the best seats in town to the show of a lifetime."  
  
Mantis, Myriad, and Ghost drew up alongside Scarstripe's tent and made a quick check before Mantis cut a small back door with his dagger. After a slight nod from the other two, Ghost crawled in and was met by the puzzled, exhausted, and frightened face of Amethyst.  
"Hello Amethyst, how are you today? Care to join me and some of my friends for a nice dinner?"  
Amethyst was so shocked by the arrival of Ghost that all she could manage to do was nod and watch as Ghost crawled through the opening, followed by Myriad. Myriad found the keys to the shackles and freed Amethyst, while Ghost offered her some water and briefly explained what was going on. All the abbey mouse could do was nod, drink, and nod again, constantly glancing at her own escape plan, a piece of Scarstripe's chair that doubled as a means to dig the steak out of the ground.  
Free from the chains, she ducked through the small opening, where she was met by Mantis. The assassin motioned for her to keep quiet and handed her a dark green cloak that he had borrowed from Loamhedge. She donned it quickly and nodded to Myriad and Ghost as the two exited the tent. Her sense was returning, and she gave the three a grin. She was free, and it was time to go home.  
  
Montel set his axe aside as he reached the first of the chained up slaves. The stockades, which were in actuality nothing more than long lines of chained slaves anchored to the ground, housed a small group of no more than fifteen woodlanders. In a quick scan, the badger had picked out a few mice, some shrews, a mole, a couple of young squirrels, and a vole. Upon seeing him and the two hares, the chained slaves all began to mutter excitedly. A quick shushing from Solace brought everyone to an abrupt silence, though. Arkain gave Montel a nod, and the badger quietly set about pulling the anchors out of the ground.  
Solace wandered from slave to slave, making mental notes of those who needed medical attention, and comforting those who needed it. The two squirrels were young, and probably taken as slaves not too long ago. Solace found out that they were two friends who were playing when a pair of stoats jumped them. She told them to keep quiet, that they were going to Loamhedge, and then continued on.  
Arkain stepped back to let the other two work and kept an eye out for guards or scouts. One caught his eye, a ferret wandering over from the defensive line. He chuckled and took to the shadows, drawing a dirk from the sheath behind his back.  
The ferret, feeling he was far from the fight, finally stood and spotted the badger and hare. He opened his mouth to say something, and Arkain sprung into action. The dirk glinted, and the ferret collapsed to the ground, his mouth still open in a silent cry. Arkain wiped his blade clean and straightened up to move on.  
"Not so fast, killer."  
Arkain spun to face the voice, drawing his second dirk, but was only met by a wall of shadows. "Who's there. Show y'self an' maybe I'll go easy on ya."  
Darkbane chuckled and stepped out of the shadows, tossing a dagger from one paw to the other. "You don't scare me, hare. If you want to fight, then so be it, but I guarantee you will lose."  
"Not bloody likely, chap." Arkain narrowed his eyes.  
Darkbane shook his head and caught something out of the corner of his eye. He turned and watched Ghost, Mantis, and Myriad escort the slave mouse, Amethyst, away from Scarstripe's tent unnoticed by the horde. He looked back at Arkain, gave the hare a wave, and stepped back into the shadows.  
Arkain growled and looked around for the assassin, but to no avail. The black rat had vanished into the shadows. He sheathed his dirks, puzzled as to why the rat had suddenly vanished. After a while, he shrugged it off and moved back towards Montel and Solace. The slaves were free, and it was time to start escorting them back to the abbey.  
  
Chapter III  
  
Trent's eyes glinted with the sheer pleasure derived from watching Scarstripe's Bloodslayers hiding from the occasional sniper arrows fired by Foxtribe. All was going like any well planned scheme would, and there was yet to be a loss for his numbers. He laughed and shouted to the warlord.  
"Scarstripe!"  
The weasel answered with an arrow, which missed terribly, before speaking. "Trent. I thought we were allies in this war. You betrayed me."  
"You betrayed me. You wanted to start this game, and I warned you about trying to pull anything over on me." The Foxtribe leader traced a line into the dirt with his rapier, pondering over an idea. "Scarstripe, how much do you want to live?"  
There was silence as the warlord considered his answer carefully. "What's your proposal, beast?"  
"A fight between you and me. We go to a clearing I know of nearby, just the two of us, and the one who walks away lives to see tomorrow. Are you game?"  
"I can't trust you for anything, Trent. You'll have somebeast ready to ambush me."  
Trent chuckled. "You can trust me. I fight fair and you know it! How about it, weasel. It is your only chance to walk away from this alive."  
Scarstripe glared at where Trent's voice was coming from. The fox was up to something, he knew it, and there was no way out but to walk into whatever trap Trent had placed for him. Still, there was a chance. If he did beat the fox, and he had no doubts that he could under the circumstances, then he would be able to walk away and gather a new army.  
"Trent!"  
"Yes, your stripedness?"  
Scarstripe growled. "I'll do it."  
Trent grinned and sheathed his rapier. "Good. Take a torch and follow my voice."  
  
Ghost had led Amethyst outside of the camp, and now the group was ready to cut around the outer fringe and back towards Loamhedge, and hopefully rendezvous with the other group along the way. Mantis was leading them on, with Myriad bringing up the rear. All of them were feeling comfortable away from the camp, and stealth had stepped aside for use of speed. In the distance, Trent's challenge to Scarstripe could be heard, and Myriad stopped a moment to hear the exchange of words better.  
"Sounds like Scarstripe's gonna get his worth t'night."  
Mantis cocked an ear and nodded. "Yes, it seems so."  
"Myriad, let's get moving so we don't fall back. I want to be well clear of this by daybreak." Ghost paused and glanced over his shoulder. "Myriad?"  
The other ferret had seemingly vanished form view. Sensing danger, Ghost drew his daggers and whistled for Mantis to stop. The ermine drew his daggers as well and moved up alongside Amethyst. Ghost scanned the surrounding trees and shadows for any sign of Myriad, or a potential threat, before lowering his gaze to the ground. The sight made him freeze.  
"Oh no...."  
Lying face down, not moving, was Myriad. Ghost dropped down at her side and searched for any wounds, finding one in her back caused by a dagger. More fearful that she was dead than a potential stalker, he checked her vital signs and allowed himself a sigh of relief.  
"Ghost?"  
"She's alive. Dagger wound to the back."  
"Who?"  
"Don't know, Mantis."  
A low chuckle caused both of them to freeze and look towards the darker shadows around them.  
"Ghost, we meet again. Surely, you recognise me. At least my voice. Skullrag talked much about his most disappointing pupil."  
Ghost stood, daggers ready. "I know you, but not by name."  
Mantis bared his teeth and nodded slowly. "He may not, but I do, Darkbane."  
"Ah, Maester, is that you?"  
"You're not worthy enough to be my pupil, Darkbane." Mantis motioned for Ghost to take Amethyst and Myriad away. "What do you want?"  
Ghost shook his head and pointed to the ermine's injured arm.  
"You'd better listen to him, Ghost. Who else can get Myriad to a healer before she dies from that wound?" Darkbane stepped out of the shadows and leaned against a tree, twirling one of his daggers idly in his paw. "Mantis, I simply want to kill you. There is no other way for me to put it."  
Mantis narrowed his eyes at the rat and nodded. "Try me. Ghost, get Myriad out of here, and take Amethyst home. That was our mission, and it needs to be finished."  
"You're in no position to fight. You take them and if he tries to go after you I'll slit his throat."  
Mantis shook his head at Ghost. "That is too impractical. It would not work, and I can't carry Myriad back with one good arm. She would die. Besides, she needs you, Ghost."  
Ghost nodded slowly and cut a strip from the base of his robe, which he used as a temporary bandage and wrap for Myriad's wound. Picking her up, and nodding to Amethyst, he left Mantis and Darkbane alone to fight, knowing that only one would come out alive, and fearing the truth that Darkbane held the advantage.  
Mantis hissed and gripped his daggers. "Alright, Darkbane. Show me the best you've got."  
Darkbane dropped to an attack stance and laughed darkly. "Alright, Maester. I'll show you that and then some."  
Mantis dropped his robe to reveal his shockingly white fur. "Try me, Darkbane. I'm all for a good challenge."  
The black rat hissed, raised his daggers, and attacked.  
  
Trent nodded to Scarstripe as the weasel stepped into the circular clearing. "Well, well. We meet again, Scarstripe."  
"Aye, and much too soon for my liking." The warlord drew his rapier and levelled it at the fox. "Shall we dance?"  
Trent drew his own rapier and nodded, pointing the blade towards the ground. "Lets do, weasel, and we'll soon see who the best is."  
Scarstripe dropped his torch on the ground and started forward to meet Trent. Something snapped under his feet, but he ignored it. It was his final mistake. The ground dropped and the warlord found himself falling into a dark hole. He splashed down into a liquid, which he quickly identified as oil from its taste, and felt a searing pain in his back.  
First instinct warned him he was going to drown, but that was soon proved false, as the oil was not deep enough to cover his face fully. With strenuous effort, Scarstripe managed to pull himself up and he felt the cold steel of a blade sliding from his back. He leaned against the wall and looked down at the point of a rapier protruding from the pool of oil.  
"Scarstripe, are you still alive?"  
Scarstripe looked up and saw the flickering light from his torch outlining Trent's face.  
"Ah, good, you lived. I rather hoped you would. Guess what you just fell into. Would you believe a pool of your very own oil? You should never try to outfox a fox, we're naturals at that game." Trent cocked his head. "Not saying anything? You must have found that rapier, then. It didn't hurt too much, did it? Oh, guess why I asked you to bring a torch."  
Scarstripe started to shiver uncontrollably as Trent's plan donned on him. The fox had lured him to the clearing where a trap was already placed, and now.... He could not bring himself to think about it.  
"Scarstripe, guess what. I win!"  
Trent's laugh echoed in the pit as the torch was released and fell towards the pool of oil. Scarstripe thought better of trying to catch it, as he was covered in the oil and to do so meant death any way. Instead, he tried to scramble up the steep sides of the pit. The pain from his wound, though, prevented him from getting anywhere. Everything was moving slowly, and he looked up as the torch fell and struck the surface of the pool. Fire exploded and spread faster than Scarstripe thought was possible. The flames touched his fur, which was soaked in the deadly oil, and instantly ignited. Death was coming, but not without its cruel pains.  
Trent laughed as he walked away from the pit. Scarstripe's screams were enough to confirm the deadly effectiveness of his trap. Sheathing his rapier, he cut across the clearing where he met up with Slyver and nodded.  
"Spread the word to the archers to kill them all. If you run into Lady Flynt, inform her that her friends have already started their return to Loamhedge."  
Slyver nodded and walked off to fulfil her orders, leaving Trent alone once more. Without fail, his Foxtribe had come through yet again, and another horde had been laid to ruin by the combined cunning skill and comradeship of his foxes. Comradeship was, without a doubt, the reason why Foxtribe succeeded where hordes failed, and Trent had known this from the beginning of his reign. Foxtribe was not just a leader, it was everyone.  
  
Chapter IV  
  
Ghost slowly stirred the fire as he looked about the deathly quiet camp. Amethyst was curled up nearby, dozing away, exhausted by the hard, nightlong journey. They were close to Loamhedge, but she could not have gone on without a rest. They would move again soon, after she woke up and had something to eat. Myriad was sleeping next to the fire, wrapped in Ghost's dark green robe. Her still form was where his gaze rested.  
Already he had lost Celleste, one with whom he had felt he could have spent the rest of time with and not have had any complaints about an uncertain future. She was gone, though, and that life had gone with. Last night he had come close to losing another, whom he felt strongly about, and that had shocked him into a deep thought about what his current future held. After a moment of gathering his thoughts and organising them, he reached into his pack and pulled out the unfinished journal that he had started with Celleste. The first page held the familiar Loamscript riddle that had been written by the Badger Lord of Salamandastron. He could read it now, and his eyes trailed down the page and stopped at a single passage.  
  
He who leads shall know great pain  
His past is far from gone.  
His victory shall come at a great price;  
And a great war shall spare none.  
  
Ghost turned past the riddle to the final four pages, which were still blank and worn from time, abuse, and neglect. He stared at the first of the blank pages and pulled the small pencil he always carried in his pack. Placing the tip on the page, he began to write.  
  
Celleste,  
Time will never heal the pain I feel whenever I think of you. The times we shared together are forever etched into my memory, and I doubt that even the most profound events possible could ever erase them, as I doubt few will be as profound as the day we first met.  
Much has happened since you left, and I am beginning to realise and understand some of what you tried to teach me. You told me once that I needed to stop living in the past, and just remember it for what it is. I now know what you were trying to teach me, and I see the value in it. You also told me to move on, and I have decided that I am going to do just that.  
I have found a new companion for my travels, if indeed I do decide to take up that profession again. Eagle Watch is gone, and I feel most of us will be going our own ways, so I am not looking towards them for any travel companions. I could always stay at Loamhedge, and I know I would be welcomed there, however I also feel that I cannot stay, as I am a born traveller, and I am unable to stay anywhere for too long unless a part of me is there. There is no part of me at Loamhedge, so I believe I will not be staying there very long.  
During a long walk last night, which was part of a rescue mission, I passed a stream that flows south, though I am not sure about its final destination. I am thinking that it might be worth it to follow the Southstream, as I called it in my mind, to wherever it may go and seek a place of my own there. Perhaps then I might find some place to settle down and live the rest of my life.  
I have also met someone, Celleste, who is not you, yet I know has the same...I am not sure how to put this. She I special, just as you were, but not the same as you. Both of you are unique, and I will always reserve a place in my heart for you.  
Celleste, I loved you dearly in life, and evermore as I continue to live without you. However, I know you would have wanted me to move on, so I will do what I can to move on, and I will not continue to live in the past. Trent, though I feel the strongest urge to take my revenge with him, is in the past, and I will leave him where the past belongs -behind me.  
I am nearing the end of this book, the very one we started together, and I only have one final thing to say. I miss you terribly, and I cannot wait until I meet you at the gates of the Dark Forest. There is much we need to catch up on, even though you are probably watching me this very moment. I am sorry, Celleste, that I did not believe what you told me about Trent, and I pray you can forgive me. Now, though, as this book is finished, and a new one comes to continue where it left off, I am going to move on and leave the past in the past. Farewell, Celleste, and may peace forever be with you.  
  
Ghost  
Eagle Watch  
  
Ghost closed the journal and ran a paw over the rough cover before sliding it into his pack. The book had been closed on his past, and it was time to look forward to a new beginning.  
  
Chapter V  
  
Trent stared into the grey morning mist. Foxtribe had won, and the members of Scarstripe's horde that had not been killed had fled into the night. The war was over. Scouts had searched for any forming pockets of possible guerrilla forces, but had nothing more to report than the sole casualty, Mantis, who had apparently died from a dagger wound to the gut. It was a trivial matter, though, as he was not a member of Foxtribe, and Trent had never known the ermine well enough to care.   
Now, the Foxtribe leader was seated on a stump, in the middle of an entirely dead camp, watching the smouldering remains of a campfire. Propped up next to him, eyes glazed and lifeless, and a black arrow protruding from his chest, was a ferret and former member of the Bloodslayers.   
"Seems a shame, does it not?" Trent chuckled and glanced at the dead ferret. "You never had the chance to put up much of a fight."   
There was an audible silence during which Trent stared into the fire and acted as though he was listening to another speak. It had become a way got him to pass the time, as well as speak his mind freely and without worrying about someone questioning him.   
"You know something, you are funny, in a way. I have killed ferrets before, but they tended to put up more of a struggle than you did. If that is any evidence of Scarstripe's leadership, then you are all better off dead." He frowned slightly and looked at the dead ferret. "No, of course not. I am leaving. No, we have been north already. I would like to go south." He paused and grinned. "No, home is in the south for me. I would like to see what my old rivals think of me now. They would not dare to deny me my rightful place now, not with the backing of my tribe."   
Slyver laughed and came up behind Trent. "Talking again, Trent? You always were the sociable beast."   
"Yes, so I am." He smiled and looked over his shoulder at her. "Did we get them?"   
"Most, not all. There were some that didn't want to be found." She sat down. "Who's your friend?"   
"A ferret, no beast of importance. What became of the ermine, Mantis?" Slyver shrugged. "We buried him, no marker, he's gone as far as anyone is concerned."   
Trent nodded. "Are we all nearby?"   
"Yes, and ready to go."   
Trent glanced about the devastated camp. "Let's salvage this and use it for what it is worth. It would be a shame to let this go to waste. After that, there is a stream I would like to follow that leads south."   
"If we stay, won't we risk running into Ghost and his group?"   
"They won't attack us. If they ask, though, we are going north. I do not want to be hunted down should they change their minds about leaving the Tribe in peace."   
Slyver nodded. "Should I spread the word?"   
"Please do, then come back here."   
She paused and glanced over her shoulder. "Does that mean we are not going to attack Eagle Watch?"   
Trent shook his head.   
"What about the plan you put forth?"   
Trent shrugged. "It worked, to a degree, and still is. Myriad fell in love with a personal hero, and she is still Ghost's weakness. Darkbane, wherever he went, should still know that. Let him exploit it if he truly wishes to. I'm satisfied with defeating Scarstripe; Eagle Watch and Ghost no longer appeal to me."   
Slyver nodded and walked away, leaving Trent alone with his ferret companion again. He scratched his head and looked down at the still form, whose lifeless eyes were locked on him. Trent snorted and glared at the ferret.   
"What are you looking at?"   
  
Chapter VI  
  
Ghost roused Amethyst from her slumber and stretched. Although he had not slept himself, his muscles had stiffened somewhat from sitting still for so long. Myriad was still sleeping soundly beside the fire, and though he felt it was a shame to disturb her, he was more worried about the dagger wound and getting it treated by Nativa back at Loamhedge.   
"Don't worry, Amethyst, not too far off now. It's near mid-day; I'd wager a guess that we will arrive before the afternoon tea."   
Amethyst nodded and glanced over at Myriad. "How's she doing?"   
"Slept all night, I'll carry her again." Ghost looked around and sighed. "No sign of the others. I hope Mantis got out alright." Amethyst looked around and nodded slowly. "He might be at the abbey."   
"So might everyone else. No matter, though. If they are not, I know we will." He knelt beside Myriad and checked the dagger wound in her back. "Let's get moving, I want to get there as soon as possible."   
"Ghost?"   
Ghost looked up and folded his ears back against his head. He recognised the voice, but it took him a while to place it. "Arkain?"   
The black hare bounded into the clearing and laughed cheerily. "Good, here y' are. Took me a while."   
"Where is everyone?"   
"Back at th' abbey, chap, save Solace." He whistled hollered off to his left. "Got 'em here!"   
Ghost stood and shook the hare's paw. "How did it go with you?"   
"Good. Ran int' some black rat, but he left." He glanced at Myriad. "Guess I know where he went. Where's Mantis?"   
Ghost shook his head. "Stayed back to fight off that black rat."   
There was the sound of crackling bush, and Solace ran into the clearing.   
"Solace, Arkain, give me a hand. Myriad needs to get back to Nativa."   
"No problem, Ghost." Solace smiled and waved Arkain over. "Y' get Myriad, I'll carry Amethyst. How d' y' mind walkin', Ghost?"   
"Not at all."   
Solace nodded and snatched Amethyst up. In a wink, she was gone and headed towards the abbey.   
Arkain chuckled and picked up Myriad. "I'll keep y' company, chap. We're close t' th' abbey, it's just after that line of trees."   
Ghost nodded and yawned. "Let me know when it's safe to fall dead asleep."   
Arkain laughed and shook his head. "Not fer a while, there's a big feast waitin' back at th' abbey. No chance of sleepin' just yet."   
Ghost sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Great." A bell tolled up ahead, and Ghost looked in the direction of the sound. "Guess Solace got back."   
"She's fast." Arkain chuckled and stopped. "Here, carry Myriad. I'll run ahead an' make sure Natura's ready."   
Myriad was transferred over to Ghost, whose arms felt like lead and hardly able to support her weight, and Arkain bolted off towards the abbey. Ghost sighed and trudged on, wondering if Arkain was right in saying the abbey was nearby. Again, the bell tolled, and the closeness of its ring was enough to urge Ghost onward. He broke through the dense line of trees and into the clearing that surrounded the abbey. The sight brought a new surge of energy within him, and he pushed on. Two figures were leaving the gates at a run and heading in his direction. It was Arkain and Natura.   
The two were on him in a rush, and Ghost found himself immediately relieved of the task of carrying Myriad. He heard Natura say something, but was too tired to comprehend what it was. Arkain rushed off with Myriad, and Natura jogged off after him. Montel had shown up somewhere during the rush, and after giving his friend a clap on the back, the badger slung the tired Ghost over his shoulder and marched off towards the gates. Ghost was too tired to care what was going on, and somewhere between the Gate and the Main Hall, he found himself wandering in dreams.  



	10. Part Ten: New Dawn and Epilogue

Part Ten  
New Dawn  
  
Chapter I  
  
Blackstrike stared out across the endless stretch of woods to the west, a satisfied smirk adorning her face. Next to her, Lady Flynt was sitting atop one of the parapets and whistling random notes to herself, reflecting on the past season.  
"It's quiet here," Blackstrike commented.  
Lady Flynt looked up at the otter, having been abruptly pulled from her thoughts. "Hmm?"  
"It's quiet here. I don't think I've really ever bothered t' enjoy the quiet."  
Lady Flynt shrugged and looked over her shoulder at the treetops. "Ye really learn t' know true silence when ye live alone, but ye learn t' appreciate it when ye take time away from th' business o' everyday life."  
Blackstrike nodded. "Well said." She looked back over her shoulder at the rising sun. "It's dawn. Gonna be a busy day t'day."  
"Aye, I couldn't sleep last night." Lady Flynt jumped onto the walkway and made her way towards the stairs. "Are ye stayin' up here, or comin' down?"  
"Where're ye goin'?"  
"Check on a few things."  
Blackstrike nodded. "I'll stay here an' enjoy th' view a while longer."  
Lady Flynt nodded and made her way down to the courtyard. Here and there a few scattered mice were working, getting ready for the festivities. Two were setting up the greased pole while another was picking strawberries in the field. She had to admit it to herself, things had definitely been quiet in Loamhedge since Scarstripe had been killed, and to her it felt as though leaving was not something to look forward to.  
"Lady Flynt!"  
She turned and waved to Abbess Arum. "Abbess, what can I do ye for?"  
The Abbess chuckled and fell in step with the squirrel archer. "I was wondering if you could give me a bit of advice."  
Lady Flynt wrinkled her brow. "Me give advice? That's like askin' Ghost t' cook. It never turns out right."  
Arum chuckled and straightened her glasses. "Well, being its his last day, what would he like to have to feast on? Our friar is waiting. He did not want to make something that was anything but a favourite."  
Lady Flynt stifled a laugh. "He's willing t' eat anything, so long as it's edible. He worked with Solace and me, and cooking for th' two of 'em was a nightmare. I don't know how Elflein an' Celleste kept up with it."  
"He's got to have a favourite meal, though."  
Lady Flynt thought for a moment. "Alright, fix up some hotroot soup, but get Blackstrike t' taste it. It takes a true otter t' tell ye if it's hot enough."  
The Abbess nodded and rushed off to the kitchens to start the order, leaving Lady Flynt alone yet again. The bells tolled the early hour, and she smiled at the sound, not remembering a time when she ever felt so much at ease. Everything, in spite of the hardships and trials, was falling in place and coming together. Arkain and Solace had been wed and decided to make their home a few days' walk from the abbey. They would be showing up soon, much to the horror of the kitchen staff, to enjoy the feast.  
"Flynt, how are you?"  
She turned again, interrupted by yet another voice. This one belonged to Amethyst. The troublemaker mousemaid had not changed much over the course of a season, except now she was looking older. Rumours had even started that she had fallen in favour with Arum and was in line for the role of Abbess. On one occasion, Arum had told Flynt that the role would help keep the troublemaking tendencies in check; this was followed by a secretive wink.  
"I'm fine, Amethyst. How are ye?"  
The purple eyes blinked and she shrugged. "Fine, I guess. I hate to see him go, though."  
Lady Flynt shrugged. "It was bound t' happen. He felt the urge t' leave, an' there's no denying it."  
Amethyst nodded. "True, but the dibbuns are going to hate it. They love him, and he's great with them too."  
Lady Flynt waved a paw. "They'll get by without him. Besides, what's t' say he doesn't visit?"  
Amethyst nodded. "Right, he probably will, if work lets him. It's a lot to worry about."  
"And feed," Lady Flynt added with a chuckle.  
Amethyst laughed. "But that won't be his job, it'll be someone else's."  
"Right, his job'll be t' keep a bunch o' those hares in line." Lady Flynt shook her head. "I don't envy him one bit."  
"It's not his job, though. Isn't he just visiting?"  
"Yeah, he is. Wanted t' see what badgers do. Poor fellow probab;y misses Corbin and just wants t' be with other warriors." The bell rang once, as though by accident, and Lady Flynt nodded towards the doors. "That's my cue t' go. Watch the gate, Arkain an' Solace should be comin' soon."  
Amethyst nodded and ran over to the gatehouse while Lady Flynt turned and ran towards the Main Hall. With the day just about to break at the seams with the festivities and farewell feast, the hour on the wall top with Blackstrike would be the most silence and calm Flynt could expect to find until sleep took her, whenever that chanced to be. For now, things had to be prepared for Montel's departure and farewell party.  
Lucky for the beasts preparing the feast, dibbuns had kept the badger up all night. Now he was sleeping in instead of poking around like he usually did, which saved a few mice from keeping him distracted and occupied with something. To be on the safe side, though, sentries had been posted to watch his door and send word when he finally woke up.  
"Lady Flynt, does he really want hotroot?"  
Flynt nodded to the friar. "Yes, an' get Blackstrike t' make sure it's hot enough. Where're th' drinks?"  
"Lined up along the front wall of the cellar. Ghost and Myriad are down there already."  
Lady Flynt rolled her eyes as the friar wandered back to his kitchen. Leaving Ghost and Myriad together meant nothing would get done. The two had proven to be inseparable since the downfall of Scarstripe and the Bloodslayers. She made her way to the entrance of the cellars and shouted down.  
"Ho there, th' two of ya! Get those barrels up post haste. We ain't got all day!"  
"Right away, m'lady!" Came Ghost's reply, followed by some unheard joke and laughing.  
Lady Flynt shook her head and made her way back to the Main Hall. Arum was there supervising the placing of tables. A smile made its way to Flynt's face as she watched the scene. There was no doubts in her mind that when the time came for her to leave this place, it would not be without tears.  
  
Chapter II  
  
"Hurry it up, we're gonna be late."  
"Oh, hush up. We're not gonna be late." Solace gave Arkain a playful shove. "If I hear that from y' one more time, I'll ask th' friar t' make sure y' get a plate o' lettuce fer a meal."  
Arkain laughed and crossed his arms. "Really now? I'd like t' see y' keep me from th' food."  
"Don't start that with me, y' know perfectly well I could wrestle y' to th' ground."  
Arkain laughed and shook his head. "I doubt that."  
"Fine. I'll show y' today. It'll be one of th' main attractions. Solace pounds Arkain."  
The two laughed as they drew up to the gate. Arkain knocked politely and stepped back.  
"Y' know perfectly well I could beat y' any day."  
Solace smiled and said out of the corner of her mouth, "Prove it."  
The door opened and Amethyst peeked out at the two, her face bright and cheery.  
"Amethyst, how have y' been, dear?" Solace said, stepping through the gate.  
"Just fine, Solace, thank you for asking." Amethyst waited until Arkain had entered before closing the gate.  
"Is everyone here?"  
Amethyst shook her head. "No. We're still waiting for two."  
"Who's that, dear?"  
"Montel, of course, who is still sleeping, and Gurren, Lady Flynt's friend."  
Solace nodded. "Aye, I know Gurren." She looked over at Arkain. "Suddenly he's gone quiet. Afraid of th' match t'day, hon?"  
Arkain snapped out of his reverie and shook his head. "No. I'll take y' on easily."  
"Try me, dear." Before Arkain could respond, Solace clamped a paw around his muzzle. "Save it for th' fight." She winked and started for the Main Hall. "Is Flynt off this way?"  
Amethyst nodded and followed. "Yes, well, just make yourselves at home, I guess. Our abbey's your abbey."  
Solace smiled and waved to the two of them. "I'm goin' down t' talk t' Ghost. Been sort of a while, doncha know." She chuckled and darted off.  
"I do not envy you in the future, with kids to take care of." Amethyst chuckled.  
"Near future, dear." Arkain smiled and made his way towards the Hall at a leisurely pace. "Besides, we'll always have th' welcome mats at th' abbey. I'm sure th' future abbess would welcome us anytime." He winked over his shoulder at Amethyst.  
Amethyst, not fully realising the meaning behind his words, just shrugged and followed after him.  
  
Lady Flynt looked up as Arkain walked through the door into the kitchen and immediately pushed him back out. "There's a sign that says 'no hares allowed' dear."  
Arkain protested and stuttered as he pointed back at the door. "There's no bally sign on th' door!"  
"There will be." Lady Flynt smiled and pointed at the tables. "Help set th' tables if yer in th' mood t' help."  
Arkain was unable to respond as she reached over to a stack of plates and handed them to him. Giving him a smug smile, she made her way out to the courtyard at a brisk pace. One guest was missing, and his presence was one that she personally refused to start without. A pair of faint specks in the sky caught her eye and she grinned.  
"Blackstrike, are ye still up there?"  
Blackstrike poked her head out over the wall. "What can I do fer ya?"  
"Tell me those are birds flyin' this way!"  
The request was unneeded, as in the short span of time, both specks had turned into lapwings, their familiar grey, white, and black feathers accented by the orange talons and beaks gave their identity away. The two birds circled the abbey once before setting down in the courtyard where Lady Flynt was standing. She nodded to Gurren and gave him a pat on the wing.  
"How goes, friend?"  
"All good. Want you meet Litha."  
Lady Flynt bowed to the female lapwing. "A pleasure t' meet ya, Litha."  
"Litha my mate. Have nest."  
Lady Flynt chuckled and gave Gurren a congratulatory pat on the back. "Finally found one that'll put up with ya?"  
"Hardly. Crazy Gurren drive all us mad." Litha shot Gurren what could have best been described as a grin before looking around at the abbey. "Nice building."  
Lady Flynt nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it is." She took in a deep breath and thought once more of her own plans to leave before turning her focus back to the two birds. "Right, well, I'll show the two of yous around. I took it upon m'self t' give Gurren a mission, Litha can join in and add to th' fun."  
"What mission? You missions always crazy. Fly here, get ferret, save them."  
Lady Flynt rolled her eyes at Gurren and turned back to Litha. "Give him a good shove every once in a while. Just for me." She laughed and shook her head. "Naw, yer mission's t' wake th' guest of honour."  
  
Chapter III  
  
Abbess Arum looked out over the gathered crowd from where she stood at the head of the table. To her immediate right sat Montel, and to her left Amethyst. Myriad occupied the seat next to Ghost, who was sitting alongside Montel. The rest of the members of the Eagle Watch were spread out among the Abbey mice, including the two lapwings. The birds had been a main attraction for the dibbuns, and still were. A crowd of the little horrors, a nickname settled upon by all of the Loamhedge elders, had decided to find their seats in that particular area, and much to the joy and relief of several abbey members, the birds did not hold back on keeping them entertained.  
"They'll be missed by more than just dibbuns when they leave, am I right, Ghost?"  
Ghost chuckled at Arum's comment and nodded. "Aye, they will. Takes a big burden off of the caretakers." He studied the faces in the crowd and could not hide a grin as he came to the two hares. "The kitchen, on the other hand, is going to be happy to see a couple of long eared stomachs leave."  
Arum smiled and looked towards Montel. "Ready?"  
"I think so. Now is as good a time as any."  
Arum nodded and rapped a wooden spoon against the table's surface. After several attempts, the room finally quieted down and the Abbess cleared her throat.  
"A double blessing for a double feast. We gather to recognise two beasts who are here with us, and to celebrate both for their accomplishments, and their futures." She smiled at Amethyst, who just blinked and nodded, still not fully realising what was being said. Arum took a quick sip of water before continuing.  
"Montel, you have graced our halls with more than just your presence. Risking your own health and life, you ventured off with your friends to bring back one of our own, and many more who are at this table right now. Still, you also bring us a few tears with your latest decision, yet we will all wish you a wonderful journey and a happy future. Would you care to say a few words?"  
Montel stood and wrung his paws together before clasping them firmly behind his back. "Well, I'm not one for speeches, but I will try." He smiled amidst the light chuckles from the gathered group. "I enjoy this abbey without end, and I will miss even the smallest of things. Every day I wake to the bell tolling the morning hours, and I often find myself playing out in the courtyard with the little dibbuns." He sighed and looked down at the table. "I do not want to leave them all, but I must. I feel a call, and I wish to return to Salamandastron for a while. The Badger Lord there offered his hospitality, and I feel I must accept, as that mountain seems to be more a part of me than I recognise.  
"I will miss all of you, and I will do my best to visit whenever I can. If trouble ever arises, or you just need a simple favour, I'm sure one of our hare companions would gladly run a summons up to the mount. As soon as I hear your invitation, though, I will come. I promise."  
Montel sat back down and wiped a tear away with one of his paws. The guests were applauding softly, and a few must have sneaked out during the speech because the bell began to ring. When the applause died down, and the bell ringers, there were two, returned, Montel looked around at the crowd and smiled.  
"Thank you, I now have my most cherished memory of this place."  
Arum smiled softly at the badger and let the silence preside for a moment before drawing the crowd's attention again.  
"Like I said, this is a double feast, and there are two who are being celebrated today." She looked around at the sea of faces, mentally preparing what she was going to say. "I know rumours have spread about who I have chosen to follow in my stead as Abbess, and I am announcing here and now who I will pass the title on to and put those blasted rumours to rest." She winked at Amethyst and motioned her to stand.  
Amethyst stared at Arum for a moment before comprehending what had happened. Slowly, her knees shaking slightly, she stood and pointed to herself. Arum nodded.  
"I am officially announcing our very own Amethyst as next in line for Abbess of Loamhedge. Amethyst, do you accept my offer?"  
Amethyst stood, frozen in captivation, for what seemed like an eternity. Then, as soon as she was able to move again, she nodded quickly. "Yeah, I guess so."  
There was thunderous applause amidst laughter as Arum gave the younger mouse a hug.  
Ghost chuckled silently as he leaned back in his seat. "You know what, Myriad?"  
Myriad leaned over towards him, having trouble hearing him over the applause. "What's that, dear?"  
"I'm thinking," Ghost took her paw and gave it a light squeeze. "They're really going to get worked up over our piece of news."  
Myriad nodded. "I think they will, too. I know I was."  
"Aye, that you were." Ghost chuckled. "That you were." He leaned over and gave her a kiss.  
  
Epilogue  
  
Summer of the Warrior's Triumph  
Loamhedge Abbey  
  
As I write this, my eyes fill with tears. The Abbey Recorder was kind enough to allow me an entry in the log book, so I am here writing down my final farewell to the place that has been home to me and my companions for the better part of a season now. Montel has sent word that he is leaving Salamandastron and venturing north. He has a new companion, too. In his time at the mountain, he took part in many of the patrols that ventured far and wide across the lands and met up with someone he simply describes as "the snow of winter, and the bright sun of summer." Of course, I could easily apply that description to Myriad, who is making her final rounds of the abbey in preparation to leave. The both of us were wed here shortly after Montel publicly announced his leaving, and we announced the engagement shortly after his own announcement. Much to the joy of the dibbuns, it forestalled his departure, and the departure of the lapwings, Gurren and Litha.  
We are happy now, Myriad and I, and after long thought we have both agreed upon venturing south, along the Southstream I came across nearly a season back when we were going to rescue Amethyst. I do not know what to find down there, the Southlands are entirely unknown to me. At any rate, that is where Myriad and I wish to start our family.  
Amethyst is Abbess now, and Arum has stepped into the roll of mentor and guide for her predecessor. I have no doubts that Amethyst will become one of the greater Abbesses of this abbey. That, however, will be recorded in these books later.  
Thus said, I now write my farewell. Loamhedge has been the only place I have ever considered home, and as I step outside of is gates, I am constantly reminded of the past, of how I came to be at this place, and all I leave this place with. Blackstrike told me once to never give up hope, and I know she will read what I wrote later (that was her only condition to letting me write in her book, and it is always wise to keep the recorder happy) so I will simply state my thanks and gratitude for her kind words of encouragement. I have no doubts that I would not be where I am right now had I given up hope back then. Thank you dearly, Blackstrike.  
Myriad is here, now, so I will say farewell. I will visit again, and I will hold this place forever in my heart and mind.  
  
Ghost  
~Eagle Watch  
  



End file.
